


here we go again (straight into your embrace)

by Nerdling_Queen



Series: i'm not here looking for absolution (i found myself an old solution) [1]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Ryn's Multiverse
Genre: Alec is a badass, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst and Feels, At first it's mostly just Malec, BAMF Alec, BAMF!Simon, F/F, F/M, First Kisses, Fluff, Fluff in the end!, Fluff will emerge, Futurefic, Genderswap, I promise!, I will go down with these ships, M/M, Mental Instability, Multi, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Character, OH ANGEL THE FEELS, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Schmoop, Simon Lewis is fucking important okay, Simon has a seeeeeee~cret, Tag will be updated as the story continues, Technically the different lifetimes are OCs, baby!Lightwoods, but he's not telling anyone what it is, but the Jimon and Claribelle will become much more prominent as the story goes on :D, hope y'all in are in for the long haul, how am I the first person to use that tag wtf, in that the parts with the canon characters are set several years post-CHF, lots of queerness, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 31,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3927733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdling_Queen/pseuds/Nerdling_Queen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Jonathan Shadowhunter, demons and angels walked the earth freely, fighting the battle the Nephilim would take on. They were supposed to be the greatest of enemies.<br/>But two of them broke the rules. An angel fell in love with a demon, and he was cast from Heaven; a demon fell in love with an angel, and he was banished from Hell. Their friends, a mishmash of angels and demons, warlocks and faeries, banded around them, and a bond was formed. A curse was placed: these people, this inseparable group of people, would live a thousand lives together in a thousand different bodies, and the cycle would not stop until the world ended and all fell to Hell.<br/>Unless...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alec

**Author's Note:**

> Hallo!! This is your benevolent (but mostly malicious) overlord Nerdling_Queen! Greetings, minions!  
> This is (technically) my first TMI fanfiction! *confetti poppers* YAY!!  
> This is a reincarnation plotline, which you'd know if you read the tags, so the chapters are parts of lives. (Some really short lives will just be one long chapter.) There will be “interludes” from the TMI life, but mostly these are Magnus/Alec Jace/Simon Isabelle/Clary stories (as different people) throughout history. There will be genderbending and species alteration (like a Shadowhunter in one life is a mundane in the next). There will be angels, and there will be demons; there will be warlocks, and there will be humans. And Alec will be different people in Magnus Bane’s lifetime, because while Magnus (as our Mags) is an immortal, Alec (poor baby) is not. So Mags has a lot of encounters w/ different versions of Alec over the course of his life.  
> ONWARDS, MINIONS!!!

Alec still isn’t used to having wings.

They’re great, don’t get him wrong, but…unfamiliar. Like the runes that never fade and are gold instead of black. Gold isn’t his color; that’s Jace.

He misses black- seriously, unless he’s corporeal and blending in as a mundane, he is required to wear gold, white, and silver at all times. Really. Just because he’s now an archangel among guardian angels doesn’t mean he automatically likes the color scheme.

That isn’t all he misses, of course. He misses eating. And sleeping. And friends. And relaxation. He misses ignorance. That may sound strange, but there are some things _no one_ needs to know, thanks. 

He misses his siblings. Upside, he can see Max fairly often. (He nearly burst into tears when his little brother charged him out of nowhere and hugged him hard enough to knock the breath out of him.) But the supreme downside: none of his living family members can see him, feel him, or even know he was ever there. It’s heartbreaking.

He misses tangibility and corporeality. He’s invisible to all mortal life unless summoned, and really, who’s going to summon a _guardian_ angel? Most don’t even know that type exist. He’s so tired of being walked through, even if he can hardly feel it.

Most of all, he misses Magnus. Just everything about his warlock. It hurts _so badly_ all the time, this separation, because there is _nothing_ either of them can do about it. His warlock is one of the most powerful in the world and he is an actual fucking archangel of guardian angels and there is nothing that can be done by anyone but the Big Guy. And _He_ certainly isn’t going to help.

Well… there is one way for Alec to kiss, hold, touch, even just see and be seen by Magnus again before the warlock’s death. But…. that way is so horrific and untrustworthy. Alec doesn’t know if he will survive, and even if he does… to be stuck as _that_ … no. It isn’t worth it.

_Magnus is worth anything._

He groans, soft wings curling around himself involuntarily. God, he hates this.

_I want to go back. I want to feel him again; I want to ease his pain. I want to kiss him. I don’t care about angel status; I want my Magnus._

_I want to go back._

A single gold tear traces his ivory cheek as he stares down at the New York street from the top of the Empire State Building.

_I wish I were still with you, love._

The former Shadowhunter, now Archangel among Guardian Angels, spreads gold-and-white wings and flies off.

A single pale feather flutters off his left wing and falls, spinning through the air on little gusts of New York winds. It follows a set, yet meandering and confusing path, straight to a certain person’s windowsill.

A spiky dark head pokes out of the window of a loft. The man stops, stunned, at the sight of the extraordinary, magnificent snowy-white feather on his sill. Long, caramel-colored fingers pick it up and examine it carefully. Green-gold, slit-pupiled eyes widen and glow with surprise, happiness, and confusion all at once, and the High Warlock of Brooklyn shakes his multicolored head and says with a half-hearted chuckle: “Never thought I’d find an angel’s feather on my window.”

And high above, a blue-eyed angel watches with a miserable smile and liquid gold streaming down his face.

 

 


	2. Alicia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the first noncanon lifetime begins...  
> Fem!Alec, but the others are all 'normal'. And just to be clear here: the Magnus in this lifetime is MAGNUS BANE, as in Magnus from canon.  
> MWAHAHAHAHAHA.  
> PS: All words you do not understand are made up, by me. If they mean something in a language other than English, I apologize, but they're nonsense words in essence. ;) ALSO: Only the MI lifetime is in present-tense. The other lives are past-tense, for obvious reasons.

Alicia ran. Breath huffed in and out in a cloud, frigid temperatures sending icy needles through her lungs. Her chest throbbed and she wanted nothing more than to stop and simply rest.

But she had to keep running, or those _things_ were going to catch up with her.

She didn’t know what they were- a mishmash of rotting flesh and serrated teeth and mud-colored, bloodshot eyes that smelled like a sewage dump. They were snuffling and snarling, lumbering along behind her like hunting dogs on a trail. Her dark, shoulder-length hair was plastered to her scalp with cold sweat, and her bright blue eyes prickled with tears, but she would not let them fall. She needed to survive this. Her family needed her.

She stumbled on her overlong skirts, catching herself almost instantly, but the moment had cost her. They were even closer. A sob caught in her throat. She didn’t scare easily, but these things were _terrifying_. They were completely focussed on ripping her apart, and she was next to defenseless against them. Her skirts tangled around her thin legs again, nearly toppling the dark-haired girl. Fear climbed up her throat and exploded in a scream, high and utterly terrified. A thought pounded in her ears like her frantic heartbeat: _I’m about to die. I’m about to die. I’m about to die._

She fell to the ground, cursing her skirts in some deep, unafraid corner of her mind, and turned around to scoot back frantically, eyes huge with panic. There was a strange humming in the air, like the sound she sometimes heard right before a lightning strike, but it didn’t feel threatening. It felt… comforting. It would protect her. Her right hand outstretched, she murmured, “ _Le, ouje aref quoro marakef!_ ” She had no idea what that meant, or where the words came from, but it seemed to do the trick. A wall of green light came into being between her and the things, wrapping around them like a cage without bars. Her lips pale and trembling, she said, “ _Marros abe veic!_ ”

The light grew spikes, jutting into the doglike monsters. They squealed and fought as dark, acidic blood dripped out onto the grassy plain. Alicia watched, wide-eyed, as her creation crushed the things in its razor-sharp claws and drained them of blood. When they stopped struggling, the light brightened enough to leave spots in her vision- then disappeared with the monsters in its grip.

She rolled over and threw up. Then she stood shakily. “What in God’s name…” she breathed, sapphire orbs huge. That was nothing she had ever even heard of before, and she listened more than anyone.

The golden October sun filtered down through the leaves, bathing her in light. If someone looked into that clearing, they would never have guessed that someone almost died. There was no trace of the monsters except a few patches of dead grass, left from their acidic blood. She exhaled slowly. “Alright, Ali,” she said to herself. “That did not happen. You were not just attacked by demonic servants. You did not fight them off with magic. You just had a vision brought on by bad meat.”

So saying, she straightened her dark skirts and brushed out her long hair. Then she walked off to her farmhouse, where her siblings were waiting for their big sister. She needed to protect them if that was real; if that ever happened again. She doubted it, though. It was a quiet area; why would demons come here?

_What was that?_

 

* * *

 

Alicia did not expect to find a boy passed out in her garden, but considering how the week was going…. no, still wasn’t expecting that.

“Excuse me?” she asked gently, nudging at the boy with the toe of her shoe, long skirts flicking at his nose. The boy sneezed, flapping a hand weakly at the offending cloth.

“Go ‘way… wanna sleep…” he muttered.

Alicia smothered a grin. He was _adorable_. Then she frowned. She didn’t know him, didn’t even know why he was there- why should she feel like this? Her heart pounded like it had two days ago when she was being chased by those dog-things, but this was pleasant and heady, not smotheringly terrifying.

“You must get up!” she scolded, ignoring the prickle of familiarity in her chest the words brought. “Why are you passed out in my garden?”

The boy shot up, rubbing sleep from closed eyes. Then his lids opened and Alicia caught her breath. Her attention was completely riveted. She was unable to register anything else about the mysterious visitor.

His eyes were gorgeous. Emerald and flecked with gold, with slit pupils like her cat’s, but that didn’t matter. What did was the tide of emotion whirling in the green-gold orbs: fear, exhaustion, hope, anxiety, panic, happiness, a fading peace, disbelieving recognition, _love_ -

His eyes were a swirling, entrancing whirlpool of feeling that sucked her in and caught her attention effortlessly, and she couldn’t make herself look away.

The boy, who looked around nineteen to her seventeen, jerked his gaze away with a tangible effort. Swallowing heavily, he looked around. Green eyes widened as he seemed to register where he was. He turned back, eyes big in panic and remorse. “I am so sorry, I did not mean to intrude, please do not summon the authorities, I will leave immediately-”

For reasons even she did not fully understand, Alicia reached out and grabbed his torn, muddy sleeve. The boy looked down at her, confused.

She swallowed past the blockage in her throat to whisper, almost painfully: “Stay.”

Wind whipped through the tops of green trees. A chipmunk raced past her foot and birds chattered above her, but she paid no attention to anything but the deep pools of whirling green-gold emotion standing motionless above her. Her dark head craned back to look at them better. He bent down a bit. Their noses brushed as they leaned unconsciously toward one another, drawn in by an unfathomable magnetism-

Suddenly her blue eyes widened as she realized what was going on. She leapt back, panting, and stared at the boy, one hand clenched into a fist near her throat.

The boy watched her with sadness flaring in his deep emerald eyes. He nodded to himself, as though a suspicion had just been confirmed, and walked toward the gate.

“Wait,” she said suddenly. He turned, questioning.

Alicia shoved down her uncertainty and fear. For those few, oblivious moments, she had been completely happy. She wasn’t going to let that go without a fight.

“My name is Alicia,” she said shyly, extending a hand toward the mysterious stranger.

He stared at her, shocked. A bright blush spread up her pale neck and right before she dropped the hand and turned away to flee, he took it. His honey-brown fingers were warm and sent a shivery electric current down her spine.

“Magnus Bane.” His voice was melodious and just as honeyed as his skin. It hit a chord deep inside her and the blush deepened as her rare, joyous smile widened.

“Magnus,” she repeated. His name felt perfect on her tongue.

His eyes flashed golder in return and another spark traversed her spine. “Hello, Alicia. Pleasure to meet you.”

 

 


	3. Alicia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minions:  
> Just to be clear here, this will not be a regular thing. I will not post within three days on a regular basis. But I need a pick-me-up for myself and this helps, so... here you go!  
> Also, would you guys prefer that I update on Wednesdays or Fridays? Because it will be one of the two.

He stayed with them for three weeks before Alicia realized what her new friend was.

It was nighttime. She had just come home from a tiring day at work in  the spinning house- someone needed to work and Isolde and John were too young, at 13 and 14 - and her ivory-skinned hands were cracked and bleeding. It hurt, but her siblings hated to see her in pain so she just gritted her teeth and ignored it.The four sat around the table, everyone besides Alicia talking and laughing. The dark-haired teenager was focussing on eating with the least amount of pain. Suddenly her skin heated up the way it always did when Magnus looked at her. Her sapphire gaze rose from the bread she’d been contemplating to meet her guest’s emerald stare. He murmured, too quiet for her occupied siblings to hear as they wrestled on the floor for a piece of fallen food: “Your hands.”

She nodded, biting her lower lip. “They are not too bad. This is better than the time I had to card wool for seven hours straight. The pain will pass.”

Magnus didn't look like he agreed. Anger flashed in his eyes and he reached out over the table, jaw set. “Give me your hands.”

She looked at him, confused. Was that fear she saw in his gaze? “Magnus?”

“Just… do it, please, Alicia.” Yes, that was definitely a note of trepidation and fear that was making his beautiful voice shake. More out of a desire to make him happy than anything else- that and a deep trust she still did not understand- made her push down her hesitation. The girl placed her cool white palms in his larger warm ones, caramel skin engulfing her small limbs.

“Close your eyes, ‘Licia,” he murmured. The nickname sent waves of heat curling in her stomach. She didn’t hesitate. Pale lids shuttered down over sapphire orbs and she exhaled, ready and waiting.

A rush of unnatural, yet comfortable warmth flowed like water over her hands. The pain disappeared and her eyes flew open on instinct. Shocked, curious blues met worried, resigned green.

“Look,” he said, sadness lacing his tone and weighing down his voice. She did- and gasped.

Blue sparks were wound in a sort of bracelet around her wrists. As she watched, the sparks smoothed away the last hint of her cuts like a wet cloth wiping away dirt.

Her face shot up to her friend’s. Her voice trembled as she asked, “M-Magnus? What…”

His green eyes were full of pain. “It- it’s my gift.” He said the last word as though it were poison. “I can do… this, healing, a-and other things…”

Alicia realized, with a pit in her chest where her heart had been, that he was scared of her. Of her reaction- that she would throw him out, or reject him, or maybe even hurt him. Tears welled in her eyes. _Do you really think that lowly of me, Magnus?_

She gripped his dark hands tighter instead of letting go and looked up at him through thick, feathery black lashes. “Do you know how it works?”

Magnus blinked in surprise, but his grip slowly tightened. “N… no,” he admitted ashamedly.

She squeezed tighter. “Well, that’s all right. Thank you… Mags.”

The nickname rolled easily off her tongue. Her friend’s emerald eyes were huge in his caramel face, but a smile tugged insistently at the corner of his rosy mouth.

“You are welcome. I would do it anytime for you, ‘Licia.”

She shivered, that now-familiar electric current racing down her back. “Keep calling me that, please.” She didn’t know why she asked, but it was nice.

He blinked. Then the smile was in full force and Alicia felt blinded by its happy glow. “Okay then… ‘Licia.”

 

* * *

She was in the woods with Magnus, trying to find a certain herb. Her siblings were at home, playing with their best friends Claire and Sam, and being watched by Claire’s parents Lucius and Jessamine. Alicia always felt happy and sad at the same whenever she saw the four together- they were so close. She just knew that Claire and John, and Isolde and Sam, would end up together one day- you could tell just by looking at them. The love clear in their eyes always sent a pang through her heart- she would never get that chance at love, she just knew. None of the boys were ever interested in her when there were other, actually pretty girls around. And there was this feeling…. she felt like she had already been claimed by someone. But that was absurd. No one was interested; no one would _ever_ be interested. Which just made her crush- for that was what it was, she’d realized- on Magnus all the more idiotic.

But she couldn’t help it. He was so beautiful, and exotic, and kind, and perfect, and- and- well… perfect. She just could not help herself. She fell a little more in love every time he so much as looked at her.

She was in love with him, and she knew it was such a terrible idea, she knew she had to stop feeling like this; but she just could not make herself stop. She loved him with a burning passion that she could not quench.

“...icia? Alicia?” She suddenly became aware of caramel-colored hands on the dark shoulders of her dress, shaking her. Green-gold eyes peered worriedly into hers.

Think of the devil….

“Magnus?”

He stopped shaking her. “God, ‘Licia, I thought you died or something!”

“Where is your accent from?”

The cat-eyed boy stared at her. “Excuse me?”

She blushed. She did not know where that had come from, at all, but she plowed on. “Where is your accent from? I know you are not from around here, by any means, but it sounds… exotic. Where are you from?”

He was silent for a minute, just looking at her. The blush spread down her neck and chest, deepening as it grew. Finally, when she was sure she was redder than the tomatoes in her garden, he ducked his head a bit, breaking the eye contact, and muttered, “Indonesia.”

She blinked. “Where?”

“Indonesia. It’s a country over the ocean, in Asia.”

“You came all the way over the ocean? Why?”

She instantly regretted the question when Magnus’ face shut down. She’d learned that some questions would do that: shut him down, send him scurrying behind his shields before she could apologize. She did it anyway. “I am sorry, I did not mean to pry-”

“N-no, it’s alright,” he whispered, eyes downcast. Alicia hesitated, then placed her small, pale hand on her friend’s broad shoulder. “You do not have to tell me if you do not want to.” Her voice was quiet and reassuring.

The male shook his head quickly. “No, it’s not that, I do, it’s just-” He paused, then forged on:

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“Why would I be afraid of you?”

He swallowed. “I… I left Indonesia because I killed my stepfather.”

Her sapphire eyes were huge. “What?”

“It- it was an accident, I did not mean to, but he was drowning me and I was so scared and it- I- the magic just-” His voice choked off and crystalline tears flowed down his smooth brown cheeks. “I… he burned alive, ‘Licia, right in front of me, and it’s my fault, it was my magic-”

“Magnus!” She gripped his shoulders and stared up into his frantic green-gold eyes. He seemed unaware of the tears on his face, or that his voice had been steadily rising in both pitch and volume. “Magnus, you need to calm down. Mags, please-” She gasped for air around her own tears. The pure emotion in her love’s voice had very nearly driven her to her knees. “ _Magnus_.”

Her voice seemed to call him back. He blinked and suddenly his emerald gaze wasn’t thousands of miles away- it was right there, before her, boring into her blues and stealing every breath she tried to take. This time her knees did buckle. She would have slid to the ground if Magnus hadn’t caught her.

Air stalled in her throat. They were face to face, closer than ever before, and she just _could not help herself_. Her eyes slipped closed and before she could entirely process what was happening, she was leaning up and kissing him.

Any oxygen left in her body rushed out. His mouth was soft and warm and perfect against hers and she melted, completely melted, into his heat. Her body melded against his and her arms looped around his neck, drawing him as close as possible to her. His lips opened and then they were breathing the same air and _she had died and gone to Heaven because absolutely_ _nothing_ _could be more perfect than this._ Even her imagination was not such a master as to create this. Sweet fire roared around her, engulfing her body, and her heart pounded _I love yous_ in her ears, over and over because it was true, she loved him, and she was never letting go no matter _how_ badly she needed to breathe-

He ripped himself away from her, panting. Alicia knew her own breaths were rushed and short but she still could not hear anything besides the insistent beat of _IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou_ in her ears.

Emerald met sapphire, both glazed with need and love, and then they were kissing again in a clearing in the woods, bodies framed in bronze autumn light with grass the color of Magnus’s eyes under their feet and a sky the color of Alicia’s over their heads, and nothing could be more perfect.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good God, I am such a sap sometimes.  
> And yes, I know that my language is a little... archaic and Shakespearan... it's because that's how Alicia thinks, in the language of the times.


	4. Alicia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been more than a week, and I'm sorry about that. BUT: this is exam week for me, starting tomorrow, and I need something to look forward to. And, since I have up to chapter 23 and am midway through 24 written for this story, I decided that every day I have exams this week- yeah, EVERY DAY- I will post a chapter of this. And, because I'm even awesomer than that ;), I'm also posting a "chapter" of 'bbt(mtsd)' on each day of exams- Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Although I might actually post a chapter of this every day this week. It depends on how many comments I get asking me to do so.  
> Also, I fixed the mistake last chapter. I said that Indonesia is in Europe, when it fact it is in Asia- which I actually knew, so I don't know why I wrote that in the first place. *shrugs* Anyway, it says Asia now.  
> ONWARDS, MINIONS!!!

They found her again. The hounds she’d half-succeeded in convincing herself were figments of her overworked mind had found her once more. But this time, she wasn’t alone. This time, Magnus was in danger too.

“Mags!” she screamed, lashing out with her knife- she’d taken to carrying one around after the first time- at one of the hellhounds. It growled, leaping back with a bloody slash across its muzzle.

“Watch OUT, ‘Licia!”

Blue lightning crackled over her head and she ducked, half-gasping from surprise and awe at this real usage of his power. She heard the thump of a slain enemy behind her and grinned, a bit giddily it must be said, at her friend. Then, suddenly, there was a rush of heat in her abdomen- a sensation she’d felt only once before: the first attack, when green lightning- _her_ green lightning- had savaged her attackers. _Oh, please, no,_ she begged silently. Too late.

Emerald power pulsed from her pale fingertips, shredding through a line of hellhounds, sending acidic black blood and bits of rotting flesh to the grass. She cried out in shock and exhilaration- _dear Lord, that felt absolutely amazing_ \- before there were more dogs and her attention was diverted to marshalling the _magic_ burning pleasantly in her sternum before she was killed. And if she was killed, Magnus might follow- and that, she would not stand for, under any circumstance. If she had to die, it would be so the man she loved would survive. Nothing else would suffice.

Alicia sent razor-sharp curves of magic ripping through the seething masses of hellhounds, shouting in defiance as their torn-apart corpses fell to the blood-soaked, hissing earth. She would not fall today.

She was so lost in the buzz of fully-released power and the dizzy, overwhelming speed of battle that she hardly noticed when Magnus placed a shaking hand on her shoulder. She did notice when he pressed his face right up into hers and, with enormous, disbelieving eyes, said: “What the Hell, Alicia?”

She froze. “What?”

“You know perfectly well what I mean! How- what- how long-” He paused, long caramel fingers carding impatiently through tousled obsidian locks. “How long have you known you’re a warlock, ‘Licia? Because if you knew, you should have told me.”

She gaped at him. “I’m a what?”

He, in turn, gaped at her. “You don’t know?!” His voice had risen noticeably.

“Mags, please, I don’t understand-”

“You… you are like me, Alicia. What I can do- my heritage, my powers, my- my lifespan…” he paused, then continued: “You can do it too. You are a warlock too.”

The girl simply stared at him. “Um… Magnus, I-I do not- I cannot be a warlock- I, I am not special, or powerful, or anything, you are making a mistake, I cannot be-”

Fingers gripped her chin, pulling her up to face the emerald stare. “‘Licia, trust me on this.” He hesitated, then asked slowly, “Do you have a belly button?”

She blushed furiously, trying to jerk away, cursing her traitorous knees for wanting to buckle. Sure, they had kissed once, but she still wasn’t sure how they stood now. “Magnus, I do not see how that is any of your business!”

“Do you?”

“... no.”

He sighed and nodded. “Warlocks do not. You must have some other mark as well- lucky, yours is not nearly as noticeable as mine.” He smiled bitterly then. “And that power you just used- that’s warlock magic, Alicia. You need to face it: you are a warlock, like me.”

“But-  but-” She collapsed against him, too shell-shocked to stand on her own. All the stories Magnus had told her came rushing back, especially the ones about his heritage. “I- I cannot be a- I’m _not_!” She looked up at her love with wide, pleading blue eyes. “Magnus, please, I am not a child of Hell. Please, no...”

His green gaze softened in sorrow. “You are like me, ‘Licia. I am a child of Hell, even if I wish I was not. You are like me….” he broke off, an expression of heartbreak and bitterness on his handsome, too-old face.

Alicia broke down in sobs, covering her face and hunching her shoulders in. It wasn’t enough that she was ugly and undesirable; no, she had to be Hell-spawn as well. Why had God not killed her yet? She was an affront to His name; she deserved to die. Why was she not dead? Perhaps these hellhound attacks were God’s way of saying He did not want her on His earth.

There were soft, gentle hands on her shoulders, pulling her around. Her face lifted, and then she was eye-to-eye with Magnus. Her breath caught at the pain and empathy in the green, and there were crystalline drops on his smooth brown cheeks as well.

“Alicia.” It was firm and soft and so, so caring. “You are not a monster. Your father is, but you? You are the farthest thing from a demon there is.”

“I’m no angel, Magnus.”

He smiled softly, green-gold eyes glowing in the darkness. “You are to me.”

She leaned forward and kissed him, electricity coursing down her spine, making her shiver and clutch him closer. She sighed his name against his mouth as he kissed back, wrapping toned arms around her and pulling her into him. All the dark thoughts melted away in the pure light that was her warlock, and who cared if that sounded possessive? She loved him, she wasn’t letting him go, ever, and she did not care a whit who knew. Emotions flooded her body. She shuddered in joy and pleasure and hung on to her only anchor in this storm of knowledge and despair and joy and discovery and happiness and so, so much lovelovelove. Love filled her from the tips of her toes to the crown of her raven-haired head, and she wound her arms around Magnus like a pair of strong, determined vines around a brick house. And in that breathless, trembling taste of forever, she found the strength to speak the truth that had been beating against her rib cage since the first moment she had met this entrancing, beautiful, magical boy.

Alicia leaned back, gently breaking the kiss. Looking into heavy-lidded, lust-filled green-gold eyes, she whispered- so quiet it was hardly more than an exhale: “I love you.”

He twitched; a full-body tremor that sent fear spiralling down into Alicia’s stomach. The beginning of despair began creeping up along her ribs, but before it could consume her, Magnus smiled a blinding smile that pierced her heart like a spear of fire. Then he leaned back down, cradling her head in his palms , and just before their mouths made contact he said: “I love you too.”

Her eyelids slipped closed as his lips met hers, and for the rest of the night as they kissed again and again, she reveled in the fireworks lighting up behind her lids and the glow of love pulsing through her body.

* * *

 

It was inevitable, she supposed, that they would attack again. She’d hoped they would not, certainly, but she hadn’t really expected the attacks to stop.

It was the third one that month- the fifth in total, and Alicia was sick of them. These damned beasts would not leave her alone. It was only a matter of time before they went after one of her siblings, or worse, Magnus. (She knew that it was a bad sign that in only a few months Magnus’s wellbeing meant more to her than her own siblings’, the people she’d always cared about most, but she just could not bring herself to care. It was _Magnus_ , after all.) She was tired of being in constant danger, always having to look over her shoulder.

She’d asked Magnus about these demons, as he called them, but he didn’t know why they were targeting her either. “I mean, really, if you’re the child of a demon, why would other demons be attacking you?” he’d asked in frustration one evening. She’d had no answer for him. She didn't know either.

Alicia whirled, a whirlwind of green power sparking around her as she twirled through the demoin ranks in the forest. She always felt sorry for the ground whenever she was attacked; the acidic blood could not be good for the soil. Flesh shredded and _thunk_ ed and dissolved (that was another thing she’d noticed: the bodies seemed to “boil off” into the demon dimension like water in a kettle).

She panted as the last few demons died at her hands and spells, shoving her dark hair out of her bright sapphire eyes impatiently. _I really should cut it_ , she mused absently as she surveyed the “battlefield”. The ground steamed and hissed, stained black with blood and pockmarked with indentations wherever their blood had split. She grinned- well, more like she bared her teeth and lifted the corners of her mouth. She had discovered years ago that yes, she did have sharpened, pointed teeth like Magnus, but her “defining” warlock mark had yet to appear- which, apparently, was _not_ supposed to be possible. “You have it at birth, ‘Licia,” Magnus had told her. “Just because you’re amazing doesn’t mean you get to be an exception to that rule.” She had grinned and kissed him- she was usually the aggressor, oddly, since she’d always heard that boys were the ones to initiate kisses- but the oddness of her lack of defining mark had lingered on her mind.

Alicia concentrated hard, sinking deep into herself, searching for anything that might explain this oddity of hers. She sank into her magical core and “opened” her eyes- meaning, she allowed her senses to explore her inner core and build her an image of the place deep in her soul where all her magic was stored.

The core was a strange but beautiful place. It varied with different people, but Alicia’s was stunning, if she said so herself. To her, it seemed like a giant glass globe filled with bright emerald fire twirling and twisting an intricate dance through every inch of space. When she entered it, she submerged herself in her magic- she _became_ the fire, allowed power to consume her until the only thing left was magic and Alicia, no flesh or limits. She felt that it was the most exhilarating experience in the world- well, except for kissing Magnus, but that was in a different category. That was what she categorized as _Pure Heaven, Undiluted and Brought to Earth_ , and it was not to be replicated. She wasn’t fully sure it _could_ be replicated.

Something tugged briefly at the tendrils of power she sent searching through her core, then retreated back farther. Intrigued, the young warlock followed it deeper and deeper, pushing past thick clumps of power and dodging strands of emerald fire, following the twisted path the single sensation wove closer and closer to her center. She’d never been this deep before. It was an eye-opening experience. Thick clumps blocked her way and tendrils of magic swirled around her head, twisting almost affectionately into her hair like green ribbons.

Finally, she reached the end- and stopped, and stared. And stared. And stared some more.

Her sapphire gaze was locked on a pulsing, throbbing ball of blood-red energy. The sphere was sending its own thread of power out into her core, where the ruby mixed with the emerald and then remained solely green. It was small, only about the size of the small pocket mirror Isolde carried, but it was undeniably powerful. Even a few yards back (or so it felt to Alicia) she could clearly feel the energy rolling off the thing in waves. It seemed somehow… alien, despite its obvious status as a part of her. The magic from it just seemed… not _off_ , precisely, but… strange. _Different_.

Almost like it belonged to someone else.

She froze, struck dumb by that thought. Could she have someone else’s magic in her soul? Was that why she had no identifying mark? Had someone blocked her demonic side- for that, she was sure, was what the ruby orb of magic was. Her demon blood. Obviously she could still do magic, and there were the universal warlock signs, but otherwise: nothing. She had no identifying mark.

Could it be that someone really had blocked it?

Alicia reached out a shaking, uncertain hand- and held the red ball of power firmly in her fist.

Red ropes of magic radiated outward, surrounding her in a cage of bloody light, cutting her off from her own power. A fierce wind sprang up from nowhere, sending her black hair whipping around her face and her shoulders, weaving ruby-colored tendrils _into her skin_. She watched, dumbfounded and paralyzed in shock, as deep red threads crept steadily up her creamy skin, up her bare arm, along her chest-

She screamed then, a high sound of terror and incomprehension, and somehow managed to rip her hand away from the red energy. But it was too late. Bloody red streaks stained her porcelain flesh, winding up from her fingers, along her forearms, all the way to each of her shoulders. Both her arms were braceleted, circled, in seemingly indelible red streaks.

She gaped, too shocked to even think, and without considering it she turned and raced out of her mind, back to the conscious world and her body.

 

* * *

 

She didn’t tell Magnus about what she’d seen in her core. She knew she ought to, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. It was just too disturbing.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear: the streaks on Alicia's arms and torso are NOT on her actual, physical body. They're sort of on her soul, like, demonic markings corrupting and marking her soul as opposed to her body. She does not, in fact, have bloody red streaks on her arms. That would be a bit weird and disturbing in the time before tattoos.  
> Also, just a quick little warning: the end is coming soon. In like two or three chapters. Jsyk.  
> Comment please! And I ALWAYS appreciate suggestions for when/where to put future cycles. I've already written two, but I'm a bit stuck on where to go after that, so almost any suggestion is appreciated. Thanks!


	5. Alicia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, minions! So like I said, I'm posting a chapter of hwga(siye) and bbt(mtsd) every day of exams this week. Aren't I nice?   
> Just a warning, somebody's gonna die next chapter. Just so you know. ;)  
> ONWARDS, MINIONS!!!

One night, months after the day Alicia had found a stranger dozing in her garden, she and Magnus were relaxing on the soft ground in front of the fireplace in her house. John and Isolde were sound asleep upstairs and the two warlocks were grinning lovelorn grins at one another. They know they looked a bit silly, but the two really couldn’t care less.

Alicia yawned and rolled over, kissing him gently and pulling away when he tried to continue. Magnus promptly pouted, lower lip sticking out. She took one look at him and laughed, covering her blue eyes and swatting at her love annoyedly.

“God, Mags! That face should be outlawed!”

He grinned cheekily at her, killing the effect of his (very affective) puppy eyes (which sounded strange considering the fact that he has _cat_ eyes, but that was what they are). “What, I’m not adorable enough for you?”

She groaned and shoved his head away, but there was an affectionate smile on her face. “Meathead.”

“I object to that!”

“Yes, yes, I do not care….”

He huffed, sitting up and crossing his arms and pouting again. “You’re awful!”

Alicia didn’t reply for some time. When she did, it was not to answer him; instead she rolled over and gripped his arm. “Mags?”

“Yes?” Magnus turned toward her curiously.

“Don’t you think it’s strange?”

“What is?”

“That our magic is the color of the other’s eyes.”

He froze, mouth dropping open. “Oh. I… did not notice that.”

She laughed. “Really?” Then her voice lowered, becoming contemplative. “They are, though. Yours is the same blue as my eyes, and mine is emerald. Doesn’t that seem like more than a coincidence?”

He frowned thoughtfully, nodding. “You know, that really does seem like it would take more than chance.”

“Something to do with our parents, perhaps?” she wondered aloud. “Every child has the same color eyes, or some such?”

Magnus bit his lip. “Maybe. But that doesn’t explain the magic. I’ve met one of my siblings, but his magic was purple- neon lavender, actually.”

“Aren’t you exact?” Alicia asked teasingly, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek. The male warlock rolled, catching her under him with his arms on either side of her face, smirking down at her flushed face. “Yes, I am, thank you.”

He kissed her.

They didn’t talk much after that. When they did, it was because they were simply too tired to go back to sleep. Just as they were about to drift off, Alicia yawned enough split her jaw in half and murmured, snuggling closer to her warlock as she did: “I think it’s a sign.”

He had just enough mental power to form the words, “Of what?”

“That we’re…. meant to be t’gether. That we love each other.”

They slept with a warm feeling in their chests and the person they loved most wrapped in their arms.

 

* * *

 

The next week, Alicia was attacked again. They almost got to the house that time.

She didn’t tell Magnus. _If I don't acknowledge it,_ she thought nonsensically, _it won't be true._

 

* * *

 

Isolde came home one day with a radiant smile on her lovely face. The instant she got to Alicia, the younger girl burst into excited chatter and rushed her.

“OhLordAliciaIdidn’tthinkhe’ddoitbutSam _kissed_ meand-"

“Slow down, Issy!” the warlock laughed, holding her sister at arm’s length and inspecting her. “I have not seen you this happy since… well, in years.” She was going to say “since our parents died”,  but a) they weren't her parents, and b) she did not want to steal her sister’s happiness away.

Isolde smiled even wider, if that was possible. “Sam KISSED me, Ali!” she cried happily, dancing around in joy.

The black-haired warlock smiled. Inside she too was jumping in joy. “Issy that’s wonderful! I always knew you two would end up together! Tell me everything!”

Before her sister could, Magnus showed up. “Issy! ‘Licia! I saw a certain dark-haired boy going around town with a stunned, yet blissful look on his face. Issy, were you the cause of that?”

_How is he always so perceptive?_ Alicia wondered. Issy was talking: “HE KISSED ME!!”

Magnus broke out in a huge grin and, grabbing both the girls’ hands, pulled them toward the house. “Tell me everything, or you will die a most embarrassing death,” he promised.

Isolde frowned. “What do you-”

Alicia covered Isolde's mouth with her free hand. “Do. Not. Ask,” she growled warningly.

The sisters followed the male warlock into the house.

* * *

When Magnus finally broke down and told her the full story of his youth- his mother, his abusive stepfather, his real father (“A Prince of Hell, ‘Licia!” he sobbed, fisting her skirts and hiding his face in her shoulder. “I am the son of a _Prince of Hell!_ ”), and all his trouble in the twelve years since he’d left Indonesia- she cradled her warlock in her arms and told him, over and over, that “it’s not your fault, you did nothing wrong, you are not your father, I am here, I will not leave you, you are not a monster” until, gradually, he began to believe her.

“Love you,” he murmured as he fell asleep in her arms, exhausted from his breakdown. She smiled, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, and said, “I love you too, and that will _never, ever_ change.”

She sighed and leaned back, a thought flickering at the back of her mind. _Why does everyone he cares about leave him?_

A new resolve entered her. Alicia’s fist clenched and her eyes glowed as she promised herself that she would never leave her warlock. Not if she had a choice.

 

* * *

 

The day she officially surpassed Magnus in magical skill was also the day John finally stopped beating around the bush and kissed Claire.

 

* * *

Alicia never told Magnus, but she had a special, secret celebration every year on the day she found a cat-eyed stranger asleep in her garden.

Three years after that fateful day when two warlocks found each other, Claire and John announced their marriage. Both Isolde and Magnus were utterly useless for the rest of the day, unless you wanted to have your ears blasted off by ecstatic shrieking and hysterical sobs of “I knew it! They are perfect!” and so on.

And a year after that, Isolde finally settled down with Sam. That day, it was Alicia and Sam’s elder sister Rebecca who were useless from joy.

 

* * *

 

Alicia fantasized about her own wedding quite a lot after that.

Unfortunately, she didn't live long enough to make those perfect, blissful daydreams a reality.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know, I'm evil. But at least I'm updating!


	6. Alicia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end, minions. The Alicia lifetime is over.  
> But don't worry! I have a fluffy little outtake I wrote months ago (back in December, seriously) for a friend's birthday, and there is a lifetime after this just waiting for publication.  
> (Fair warning though, the next lifetime evolves into the angstiest Malec piece ever written. And no, I do not think I'm exaggerating.) I'll tag specifically for that lifetime in the chapters themselves, because they only apply to the one lifetime and I don't want that advertised o my story.  
> Moving on...  
> ONWARDS, MINIONS!!!

Alicia fought, terrified out of her mind. Green swords of pure energy flew around her bleeding, kneeling form as she chanted frantically. One thought ran on repeat through her mind: _Keep them safe. Keep them safe. Keep them safe._

The hellhounds, as she’d dubbed the creatures that were constantly stalking her, snarled and growled, sharp teeth snapping at her but unable to pierce her magical shields. Spittle dripping in long strings from black gums as thin, rotted lips lifted to snarl at their prey: the still-young warlock in the center of the green-glowing circle.

She had no idea how she was still alive. Her magical stores should have given out long ago, yet endless streams of emerald light poured from desperate white hands, solidifying the bubble around her and her house, and sharpening and multiplying her magic blades. As though summoned by her thinking of it, a sword speared right through one of the hellhounds. It keened horribly as it died, black acid spilling onto the grass, burning a circle of yellow-brown death into her land.

_All they can do is kill, even when dying themselves_.

The thought made her infinitely sad for some reason she could not comprehend.

Tears dripped down her face as she sobbed out magic words. Terror rolled over the dark-haired female in waves, fierce and untameable as the ocean. She shook as yet more power streamed from her body. The bright emerald collided with a seething wave of hellhounds. _Where are they all coming from?_ she wondered vaguely. Her head hurt so much, and she was bleeding, and she was so _tired_ …

_No!_  her brain screamed. She jerked upright from where she’d been listing like a ship without a keel. _I will not let these beasts best me. I will survive this!_

Alicia thought about her Magnus- his smooth caramel skin, glittering emerald-gold eyes filled to the brim with emotion he never expressed otherwise, his soft rosy mouth that felt so perfect against hers- and her resolve strengthened. Even when he wasn’t there, her warlock gave her a reason to keep fighting.

She panted for air and bared her own teeth at the hellhounds. A growl ripped from her own throat and she grinned ferally at her foes. A clear message was written in every line of her body: _you will not win_. She reared back, shredded skirts swirling around her pale body as she stood.

She screamed- a fearsome, wild sound- and brought her fist down onto the earth. Bright green power exploded in a fiery ball around her, completely vaporizing the demons around the young warlock.

She collapsed to her bloody, raw knees, tears of relief streaking through the mixed dirt and blood on her face.

“I beat you,” she breathed, smiling. “Magnus and my family are safe, and _I beat you_.”

Those goddamn dogs had been chasing her for months, and she had finally killed them. A glow of power, the same color as Magnus’ eyes, filled her body and a real smile broke over her pale, sweaty face.

That was when she was stabbed.

A demon blade, coated in fast-acting, agonizing poison, ripped through her chest from behind. Her breath caught and she looked down disbelievingly at the reddened metal protruding from her chest. Her sapphire eyes widened in comprehension and her dark, blood-stained head snapped up, searching for her attacker.

The sword slid out and she dropped limply to the ground with nothing to hold her up. It felt as though her organs were ripping apart and burning inside her fragile body and a whimper escaped her throat. She wanted to scream, to release the pain through sound, but her throat would not cooperate.

A man in a white-silver suit, elegant fingers clenched around the hilt of her killing weapon, crouched before her. He had Magnus’s eyes.

_He had Magnus’s eyes._

Her breath caught again, blue eyes widening further. Her breath was a rattle in her chest as she murmured, “As-mo-deus….”

The man- no, the _demon_ , the demon who was  _Magnus’ father_ \- grinned cruelly down at her. “That’s me.”

“W-why….” She choked on the blood bubbling up out of her mouth. It flowed down her chin, staining the grass.

The Prince of Hell smirked. “You make Magnus happy. And you’re not a demon- no, only a warlock. _And_ you’re my brother’s kid- the one he never wanted to be born. I’m just following orders, sweetcheeks.”

Her eyes grew. _My brother... your father…_

“No…” She coughed up black gunk. It joined the red stains on her shredded dress. Alicia stared at her killer with cold, hard eyes. “You… will p-pay for… hurting h-him.”

_Magnus is too precious for you to hurt_.

Asmodeus stared down. His eyes, so similar to his son’s, lacked Magnus’s warmth, his emotion- his life. The demon was not really alive, not anymore.

Her sapphire orbs softened in understanding. “Y-you want him… f-for yourself. I- I do not blame you.”

He just stared at her, eyes widening. His voice was a sibilant hiss when he asked, “Who are you?”

Alicia- no, not Alicia. This was someone else- raised their raven-haired head to stare into Asmodeus’ green-gold eyes.

_You know who I am, Azzy._ Her voice was different- deeper, with an unexplainable echo.

The demon's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He stared, dumbfounded, at the glowing body of the warlock he’d just stabbed. His throat worked and he whispered hoarsely: “A- _Alexandriel_ …”

The being before him, no longer a girl or a warlock, smirked. Huge, white-and-gold wings exploded from his back and Alicia’s personality dissolved like mist in summer sun. _Indeed. Did you miss me?_

Then the body dissolved into a flurry of bright, multicolored sparks and disappeared, leaving a body-shaped patch of faintly glowing grass and a completely shocked demon behind. 

* * *

  


Magnus disappeared a day later, after making sure Alicia’s family was safe. He could not stay there, with the people who looked so like her… it was impossible.

He never found her body or her killer, but he knew she was dead. He felt her die.

He never knew it was his own father to take the life of his beloved.

The warlock spent the next forty years alone, despairing, in pain and wishing for death. But he just could not die, because every time he tried he would hear Alicia’s voice in his head, saying “Please don’t do this. Do not throw your life away just because of me. Live, Mags, live.”

So he did. And he was utterly miserable…. so much so that in the end, he repressed all his memories of the love of his life. It still felt like his life was missing something, but now he could not remember precisely what.

Until the night he met a blue-eyed, black-haired mundane boy named Alejandro…  

But that’s a lifetime to discuss at a later date.

_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. I just did that. I just killed off Alicia, our main star. And yep, I just put Magnus through that.  
> But if you think that's bad... oh, you got anotha thing comin'.  
> And yes, that other thing is being uploaded tomorrow. (It's not nearly as angsty in the beginning, but chapters 8&9 are HORRIBLE. Just a quick little warning.)  
> And I really would appreciate it if you guys comment and suggest times/places to put these guys. I only have so much creativity!  
> See you tomorrow, minions!


	7. Alexander

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the beginning of a new lifetime, and just as a warning, this is seriously THE ANGSTIEST lifetime I have written to date. Originally, it was going to be a lot longer and fluffier and plottier, but then the plot bunnies of doom attacked and... well. I ended up with a lifetime that started and ended in two chapters, and includes mental instabilities, self-hatred, homophobia, and murder.  
> Sounds like fun, doesn't it?  
> (Jsyk, the next chapter isn't actually the next part of the lifetime. It's something special. But I'm not saying what it is just yet.)  
> Anyway, chapter warnings: self-hatred, sort-of mental instability (that's more funny than dangerous right now), mentions of (internalized and not) homophobia and bullying, and implied physical violence. Actually, nothing too bad just yet.  
> Also: kid!Alec and kid!Magnus in the Roman Empire! ...yay?

A twelve-year-old boy ran along the bustling streets of Rome. He wore a mud-stained toga and simple leather sandals. His inky hair flopped into his eyes, but he didn’t dare push it away- his eyes were what had gotten him into this situation in the first place.

Normal Romans didn’t have blue eyes- they had brown. He was different, and not in a good way. He wasn’t a hero. And that made him a freak instead.

So he kept running.

He ran until, not daring to look up and expose his eyes, he slammed into another body. He stumbled back, but had enough presence of mind to roll into a darkened, disguised alleyway to let the mob of boys chasing him pass by without being seen and beat up again. Only when he could no longer hear their pounding footsteps and loud voices did he emerge and look for who he’d collided with.

It was another boy, around his own age, rubbing his head and glaring at Alexander balefully. He had very tanned skin and silky black hair, and he was… really… quite… beautiful…

Alexander shook his head forcefully. _Purge yourself of these vile thoughts!_ he remembered, chanting mentally. _Drive out the evil and stop these urges!_

_Stop being a freak..._

“Why were those boys chasing you?”

He’s perceptive. “Well… I…. umm…” Alexander stuttered, unable to think of a good response. He’d never been a good liar…

The other boy kept looking at him. Alexander knew he was, even though he couldn’t see the other boy’s eyes through the thick mop of ebony hair hanging over them, concealing them as efficiently as Alexander’s hair hid _his_ eyes.

_Wait a moment…_

The other boy tossed his head back, waves of dark hair cascading away from his face, as though he'd read Alexander’s mind and know exactly what he wanted- no, _needed_ \- to see.

The boy’s eyes were a bright, unworldly golden green, glittering like precious jewels in the spring sun. Alexander felt his jaw drop open slightly, but he really didn't care at that point, because the other boy’s eyes were incredible. Deep, golden-green pools of emotion set in a smooth-skinned face, like mossy pools in summer sun. Alexander could not look away.

He became aware of the outside world again after an eternity of nothing but the other boy’s mesmerizing, _magical_ eyes. When he did, he flushed in embarrassment… and, in an act of uncharacteristic bravery that would probably never be repeated, stuck out his pale hand.

“My name is Alexander,” he said shyly.

The other boy simply looked at him for a moment. The something flared in the green pools and he grasped Alexander’s hand firmly.

“I am Magnus.”

Alexander held back a gasp at the touch. Heat moved up his arm and into his stomach, coiling in sleepy golden tendrils that sent buying waves throughout his body. The sensation, while novel, was not unwelcome- on the contrary, Alexander loved it.

He smiled at Magnus, still hiding his eyes. He’d used up his bravery for the day- possibly the week, honestly. “Sorry for bumping into you.”

Magnus smiled. “It was no trouble. It led to this, after all.”

Alexander blushed furiously and cursed his family's pale skin and propensity to flush at the most inopportune moments.

  


* * *

  


Alexander had honestly expected to never see Magnus again. Sure, they were both freaks, but that didn’t mean the other boy would want anything to do with him. Magnus’ eyes might be unusual, but they were beautiful and captivating and incredible. Alexander's… they were the color of the sky. If someone liked that color, all they needed to do was look up. He was nothing special. Magnus was beautiful and incredible and he had a chance. Alexander was doomed since the day he opened his ( _freakishly_ ) blue eyes.

So when he came home one day from his teacher’s and found a familiar boy standing at the gate, he was very surprised.

“M-Magnus?” Damn it! His stammer was back… and he’d spent so long trying to get rid of it…

“Alexander!” His voice was happy and musical.

_Why is he happy?_ the blue-eyed boy wondered. He tried desperately to crush the hope that Magnus was happy to see him.

_He’s standing in front of your villa, looking right at you with that gorgeous smile. Of COURSE he’s happy to see you! He’s obviously here because he’s been looking for you!_

_No he isn’t, and no he didn’t! He’s probably here for my father. Stop trying to get me to hope! It never ends well!_

“Alexander?”

Alexander realized he’d been in internal dialogue with his voice of hope for several minutes, and Magnus was shooting him strange looks. He flushed heavily and muttered, “I’m fine!”

Magnus didn’t seem sure, but he let it go. “May I- may I come in?”

Alexander just stared at him for a second. _You don't have to ask- just that you want to is reason enough that you do._ But he replied, “Of course you may,” and opened the gate.

His villa was quiet right now; his father would be holed up in his study, working away, and his mother lying down in her room because of a headache- she got them all the time- and the slaves working accordingly quietly. Alexander would normally head straight to his quarters and try to avoid everyone else for as long as possible; but he had a guest, and that meant he had to notify his father and act accordingly.

“My father’s office is this way,” he said, gesturing and starting off. Magnus grabbed his hand.

“Wait- why are you going to him?”

Alexander stared at him. “I have to tell him you’re here and why- Why _are_ you here anyway?”

_Please say me please say me please say me-_

_Shut up!_

Oblivious to his companion’s internal struggle, Magnus replied: “Oh- I thought it was obvious.” Ducking his head down and stretching the back of his neck, he said, “I came to see you.”

Alexander tried not to gape. _He read my mind. That’s it, he must have heard what I was thinking and he’s trying to make me feel better because he’s amazing and he feels sorry for me because I’m pathetic._

_Or he’s telling the truth and that’s really why he’s here_ , his persistent little hope piped up in the back of his head. _He might like you._

Alexander coughed and started walking again. “Uh- alright. So, you’re here to- to see me, and you’ll be staying how long?”

“Just a few hours- Mother wants me home for dinner.”

“I see,” Alexander said, studiously ignoring the sudden traitorous pit in his stomach. _What? Were you expecting him to stay? Gods, you’re pathetic._

_He’s beautiful! And sweet, and kind, and gorgeous, and he’s a freak like me!_

_That doesn’t mean he will ever want you!_

Alexander smiled weakly, trying to keep functioning despite the constant inner turmoil. That happened to him a lot, actually- his brain and his heart battling it out. “Come on.”  


  


* * *

  


Magnus did not disappoint Alexander. He was, literally, _just_ as perfect as Alexander's stupid little heart had declared the slightly older boy the instant blue eyes had caught on him. He was kind and considerate and sweet, loyal and funny but respectful and polite to Alexander's parents and all other adults; and that was just his personality.

If Alexander dipped into how the boy _looked_ \- gods, he’d never dig himself back out.

But he had to, because he was trying to be honest (with himself if not anyone else) and that included lying in his bed on a lonely moonlit night, reviewing everything he knew about Magnus in his head and desperately trying to keep the smile away. (Magnus always had that effect on him.)

So he allowed himself, finally, to fall headlong into those ( _freakish_ ) gold-emerald eyes, the smooth tanned skin, the long, silky ebony hair that he always wanted to tangle his fingers in. His tall, lanky body with hidden strength;  his lovely, musical laugh that sent chills of a different nature down Alexander’s spine every time he heard it.

That night he was honest.

That night, he cried himself to sleep in self-hatred.

  


* * *

   


It was incredibly hard to look at Magnus the next day.

* * *

 

That task never got particularly easier.


	8. Interlude: Isabelle/Magnus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We break from our scheduled programming to bring you… Izzy AND Magnus PoV!!!  
> (Just don’t kill me for the sheer amount of angst…)  
> Warnings for chapter: Enough angst to sink your ship. (Aren’t I clever?!) No but seriously, GET TISSUES NOW!!! This chapter details Magnus dealing with Alec's death- or rather, not dealing. Sorry...?  
> The star indicates a reference to an entirely different series. I explain it, but kudos if you get it on your own!  
> ONWARDS, MINIONS!!!

If it wasn’t for Izzy, Brooklyn would very likely be missing its resident warlock right now.

Magnus… had not taken his boyfriend’s death well. Who would? But Magnus brings grief to a whole new level.

Magnus and Alec… they were- _are_ \- special. Everyone knew that. (They don’t know about the big thing, Magnus's real secret, but that doesn't matter anymore does it? He’ll never get the chance to make that fantasy a reality now.) They just hadn’t known that the sparkly warlock is as far gone on Alexander Lightwood as the Shadowhunter's sister is supposedly gone on Simon. (The two of them make very good beards, and neither minds not being the object of desire. They keep each other going when the pain of rejection becomes too much and one begins to break.)

There’s a saying in the Institute: _break one, break the other_. After Alec’s death, it suddenly became apparent that it was horrifically true for ‘Malec’.

Magnus is broken. Really, truly broken.

They know- _in theory_ \- what Jace would do if Clary died and vice versa (despite the fact that the two are no longer romantically involved, they are still very close); they speculate what Simon or Izzy would do; and what would happen to the High Warlock when his self-proclaimed soulmate leaves him has become all too apparent: He shatters into thousands of sparkly pieces all over the life he and Alec shared, and then he tries to make sure he doesn't keep living the Alec-haunted remnants of that life.

Izzy walked in on the cat-eyed man three days after his boyfriend’s death with his wrists open and gushing red. She wrapped them, scolded him firmly, and sent him to bed while she went through his apartment in the middle of the night and systematically confiscated or destroyed everything she could find that could be used to hurt him.

When Magnus awoke, he screamed at her, threw her out of his (and Alec’s) loft, and drunk himself into a stupor.

The last Lightwood child has saved Magnus from himself five times now. He just keeps trying, and she knows she won’t always be able to keep this from happening, but there’s nothing more she can do.

Alec had told her three years ago, when he was drunk and happy after a party she’d thrown him and his boyfriend, that once, when he and Magnus were sleepy and just thriving off one another's presence, Magnus had leaned over and whispered, _“You fixed me, Alec. I cannot thank you enough for that.”_ *

Izzy never let on that she knew about the incident. But she watched her brother and his boyfriend more attentively after that.

She never needed this gruesome, grief-stricken, heart-wrenching proof of Magnus’s devotion to her older brother. This… this wasn't supposed to happen.

But it is, and the female Lightwood can no more stop the tide of self-destruction Magnus is riding than Alec could stop himself from bleeding out in that nondescript street three months ago.

The only one who can save Magnus is Alec (he’s the only one who ever could)… and he can’t do it any longer. He’s out of their reach.

Izzy understands… really, she does… well, sorta. She wasn’t in love with her brother. But she understand the crushing need to _follow him, just follow him, don’t let him leave you behind, go after him into the unknown_ , that is overwhelming Magnus Bane. She, however, can deal with it. Push it down into the depths of her soul and try (desperately and unsuccessfully) to move on. She can’t accomplish the latter… not yet… but it’s easier now than it was before.

For Magnus, it never gets easier. The pain never abates, never even eases the slightest bit. Isabelle realizes this, she does; but she doesn’t really understand it, because _she was never in love with Alec._

For Magnus, this entire thing is rather like drowning. He’s left drifting in alternatively icy and burning waves of pure agony without his anchor; floundering and sinking with no raft to pull himself back up. Isabelle ducks under the surface every once in a while, trying to bring him back up, but she never quite succeeds. (But at least she _tries_. Everyone else has apparently forgotten that Magnus exists and is trying to manage their own grief without a passing thought that _Hey wait, didn’t Alec have a boyfriend that might be kinda distraught right now?)_ He’s dragged under the crashing waves over and over, slammed into sand that feels more like blades; lungs filling up with pure despair so he chokes on grief over and over; eyes filled with dark and nothingness, because he has _nothing_ without Alexander. His Alexander, who always wanted to be Alec but wasn’t, not to Magnus because everyone else called him that and Magnus wanted Alec to feel special when he was with Magnus. Alec is ( _is_ , because there is no past-tense with Alec for Magnus) the most important thing, and really… the _only_ thing for Magnus.

He is Magnus’s everything.

And he is gone.

And now Magnus has nothing. Nothing except memories of when he had everything, which are tainted by the constant reminder that that doesn't exist any longer; that when Magnus stops drowning in memories, he will just start drowning in Alec’s absence. He will re-emerge into a dark, lifeless world bereft of Alec.

And Magnus would rather be burning than drowning.

So he tries, over and over and over. And Isabelle (sweet, loyal, breaking Isabelle) stops him, over and over and over.

And he never stops drowning.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {*= To all Artemis Fowl fans: I am sincerely insulted if you don’t get this reference. To everyone else: In one of my favorite book series, a character tells another “I was a broken boy, and you fixed me. I cannot thank you enough for that”, RIGHT AS HE’S GOING OFF TO HIS DEATH. It is one of my absolute favorite moments/quotes in any series, and I just needed to reference that and twist it to fit Malec. Thank you. Now, on to my groveling for mercy below.}
> 
>  
> 
> …  
> I understand that there isn’t really a way to apologize for this chapter… but I am sincerely sorry.  
> …  
> IT’S JUST WHAT I THINK WOULD HAPPEN TO MAGNUS IF HIS SOULMATE DIED, OKAY?!  
> That is my personal opinion, and I’m sticking to it.  
> …  
> (Why did this chapter come so much easier than the last lifetime?)  
> (You know, I don't think I want to think about that question.)


	9. Alexander

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING, IMPORTANT AUTHOR’S NOTE. READ THIS FIRST: Guys, before you read the chapter, you really should know that this is actually worse than the last one. (I know, I know; I thought it was impossible too… I really didn’t plan it). THIS IS THE ULTIMATE TEAR-JERKER. You must have eyes (and tear ducts) of iron to survive this chapter. General warning: mass murder, being executed by being burned at the stake, suicide, mentions (and demonstrations) of insanity. If you don’t think you can handle that, go to the end of the chapter and I’ll give you a rough overview of what you missed.  
> And with that said... ONWARDS, MINIONS!!!

Alexander's head jerked up at the knock on his door.

“Come in!” he called, trying to fight back the surge of hope in his chest that _maybe_ , just _maybe_ -

His mother came in. He tried to hide his disappointment.

She saw it anyway. Her dark eyes softened and she cupped his cheek gently, kissing her son softly on the top of his silky black head. “Oh, Alexander…”

“I should’ve stopped by now,” he muttered, valiantly ignoring the urge to cry. He was sixteen, a man; he should not cry any more. “Why haven’t I stopped?”

Lucia pulled back to look him fully in his ( _freakish_ ) sapphire eyes. “You can’t help who Venus thinks will be good for you,” she reminded him gently, eyes glinting.

He groaned and looked away to drop his head into his hands. “But… it’s wrong, Mother.”

“Stop listening to your father!” the woman snapped. “He doesn’t mean it-”

“Yes he _does_!” the blue-eyed boy cried, looking up at her desperately. “He _does_ , and he might not say it quite like- like _that_ if he knew he was talking about me, but that would be softening the blow! The way he talks about it now is his real, honest opinion! That- the truth is important, Mother.” He swallowed. “I cannot tell him, and neither can you. You know this, Mother; please stop making me hope.”

Lucia sighed heavily. Her soft hand cupped his sharp-boned cheek, turning his face toward her glittering nearly-black eyes.

“I do not care who you love, Alexander,” the woman said carefully, firmly, gently, reassuring. “But if you put these restraints on yourself, I cannot help you.”

She left then, a silent shadow of a woman in a blue dress with long chocolate hair swept up on the top of her head and grace in her steps. Alexander watched her go; there was no evidence of her illness and frequent weakness in her strong, confident movements, and he wished fervently he could be the same way.

When she had gone, he got up, closed the door firmly, sat heavily back down on his bed, dropped his ebony head into porcelain palms, and let himself sob until he was hoarse.

* * *

  


Alexander hadn’t actually seen Magnus since they were fourteen, which was why he was so cut up by all this. He hadn’t seen the ( _enchanting, beautiful, perfect_ ) other male in two years; why was he still thinking about him day and night?!

And there was the real problem: Alexander was still in love with Magnus. (He gagged slightly just thinking the word.) Two. Godsdamned. YEARS. And he was still just as in love with the green-eyed boy as he had been the day he’d met him!

_Love at first sight._ sighed his internal Happy Voice (as he’d named it). _So lovely…_

_Why couldn’t he have been a Magn **a**?_ Alexander moaned internally.

_Oh, shut up, you!_

_Why do you always sound like Venus?_

_…_

Alexander realized suddenly exactly how creepy this conversation (and the fact he had several like these daily) was and hurriedly refocused on the world outside…

Only to be roughly reminded why he’d entered his mindspace in the first place:

His father (damn you damn you damn you) was talking about marriage.

“And Lucretia Cornelius! Why, her father is such a rich- er, I mean, good man…”

Save me from this hell, kind Fortuna, the young man moaned internally. PLEASE…

* * *

He had no such blessing from the goddess of luck; his father kept him locked up in that stuffy, isolated room ( _torture chamber_ , the young Roman had thought fervently more than once) with talk about _all_ (and that meant  _ALL_ ) the possible candidates for inter-family marriage.

Alexander was slowly but rather surely going completely out of his mind.

_I DON’T LIKE ANY OF THESE WOMEN!_ he wanted to scream. _I LOVE MAGNUS! STOP TRYING TO GET ME TO MARRY OFF!_

But, of course, he didn't. He buried all the fury and resigned despair at his inevitable fate (father, husband, _normal_ _man_ ) and utter contempt at his father deep inside his chest, in the tightly locked mental cabinet he had constructed specifically for the purpose of these types of encounters with his blustery, absolutely insufferable father.

(Most of the older man’s tirades against men that loved other men were there too. They just had a tendency to slip out through the seams, like poison in a cracked glass.)

Alexander took a deep breath and release it silently, watching his father’s mouth move but not hearing a sound slip from the senator’s lips.

_Good_ , he thought without any particular presence of emotion. He was numb, blissfully unfeeling, at least for the moment. _Less ammunition for me to hate myself_.

His father had that effect on his son; nearly everything that slipped from his wide, oblivious, boring mouth could, in some way, thud like daggers into the boy’s mind. He was an unwitting expert at breaking and hurting his son, and he was totally unaware of the PhD he'd earned in the subject of torturing one Alexander Gaius Victorious.

(That made it worse, somehow. That he had no idea how much he hurt his only son with Every. Single. Word that came out of his mouth.

Alexander had always appreciated honesty (one of the many reasons he hated himself; he loved honesty and spoke lies at every turn), from everyone, but his father took it a bit too far.

Honesty can be a soothing balm to a tortured soul; or it can be the knives and whips and fire that tortured that soul in the first place.)

When it ended, Alexander stood without grace, without even a single shred of his usual capable, unflappable demeanor that he wore his father’s presence. For those few moments, he was just the aching, slowly-but-surely shattering glass statue of a boy his father had sculpted him into.

He looked at his father’s turned back for several moments, blue eyes carefully blank and looking rather like a smashed mirror.

The man did not turn, did not even notice his son’s continued presence.

Alexander walked briskly away; trying to ignore the stinging in his eyes and the fire in his stomach as he burned away to ashes that drifted down to the floor behind his quick, light footsteps; not watching as the glass case inside his chest melted and the silk-wrapped heart cradled inside caught up in a sudden blaze of light and burned away; as the red-gold-gray flakes of remnants of a person fluttered around the suddenly still, dangerously cold-eyed boy standing in his room.

The black-haired boy released a shuddering, single exhale and sat down heavily on his bed, staring at the wall across from him. A slow, utterly terrifying smile spread slowly over his cold, sharply angled face and a glint of something dangerous glittered in ( _freakish_ ) cerulean eyes. Something broke in him then, something vital; a glass-crystal sphere, cradling his innermost values and restraints, burst apart and rained down pieces in a glittering and deadly fall of glass rain.

That same something reformed in his hardening eyes; jagged, lethal edges poking out in a clear warning to all who looked him in the eye: _There is danger here; beware._

Alexander was tired of being other people's tool, their pawn to play with and break however they wished. He took that tiredness and used it, forming it into something new in the forge of his rage and cooling it in the sea of his despair. And he came out someone- some _thing_ \- different.

Something dangerous and deadly and unutterably beautiful, like a finely crafted sword dripping blood, crimson droplets rolling down shining silver metal.

Something new.

He smiled and stood silently, a dark drifting shadow in the black of his room ( _when had it gotten so dark? When had night fallen?_ ). He went to the small chest in the corner of the room, kneeling and opening the carved wood box all in one swift, carelessly graceful movement. His hand, so pale, so very mockingly different, slipped inside and found what he was looking for immediately; slender fingers grasped and pulled free the object of his desire.

Alexander drew out a sword.

It was a thing of beauty; sharp enough to cut the air when it was swung, thin and flexible but strong and inescapable in the heat of battle. It had been made for him years ago, when he was just starting battle training to enter the legion; he was going to be a great soldier and help others.

(His father ruined that dream, like he did all the others Alexander had ever had.)

It was perfect for what he had in mind.

The sixteen year old held the slender weapon beside his face and smiled, slow and cold and terrifying. His eyes were frozen blue pools, glaciers in the setting sun outside; immovable, implacable blue ice reflecting the unattainable golden- bronze-ruby light and warmth of its greatest enemy.

The smile was sharper than the sword, and just as deadly.

_Oh, yes_. Alexander thought to himself, removing the sheath from the chest and attaching it to his belt. The voices that had lived in the back of his head ever since he was a tiny boy were finally silenced; at last, he had peace.

(He ignored the empty pit inside him where they had been. He did not need them any longer.

Had he ever needed them, really? All they’d ever done was make him hope so he’d be broken again.)

_Yes_ , the beautifully shattered boy thought again, glacial blue eyes sliding down and back up the length of his weapon. _This will do the job quite beautifully_.

_I hope it survives my execution. It is a good sword_.

* * *

 

It was dark when he left the room.

It was not when he left the house.

His home crumbling in flames behind him, with the still-bleeding bodies of all those who ever associated themselves with his decapitated father, rather eliminates all possibility of darkness.

* * *

Alexander was surprised it took them as long as it did, honestly.

He lived for nearly a month outside Rome, all over the countryside. He wasn’t even trying that hard to escape; he didn’t want to escape. If he had, he would not have brutally and mercilessly slaughtered everyone he’d ever known- well, everyone who wasn’t Magnus and who lived in the house- in one night, with many of his neighbors in earshot, and then burned the place to the ground.

(He was also well aware that he was, very probably, totally insane at this point. That didn’t mean he _cared_.)

When they _finally_ tracked him down, the blue-eyed murderer was reclining in a tavern of sorts with a drink. He was very clearly relaxed, face smooth and open, eyes shining like pieces of glass in summer sunlight.

His sword was stabbed into the wooden floor beside his chair.

“Alexander-”

“Hello!” he chirped, hopping up and staring at them excitedly, head cocked slightly to the side. “Are you here to arrest me now?”

“Um.” one man said.

His comrade supplied the rest of the statement: “Yes.”

Alexander grinned (a bit insanely, but like he said before, he didn’t really care about that any longer) at them, his execution squad. “Oh, good. Let’s get back to town then.”

“Um.” Said the guy again, bright golden ( _freakish_ ) eyes narrowed and blank.

The blue-eyed killer smiled at him. “Oh, it's alright if you’re unnerved by me. Everyone else is; I’m used to it by now.” He held out his hands, then paused and leaned down to retrieve his sword from the floor.

The squadron immediately pointed their weapons at him on mass.

He grinned cheekily at them and turned around. The girl behind the bar stared back at him, black eyes glinting in the low light. He liked her; she knew who he was, from the moment he walked in, and she sat down across from him anyway and asked: “So, how does it feel, being a killer?”

He really liked her. But not like that. That particular brand of liking was reserved for Magnus, and it would always be.

He bowed at the waist to the girl- he never did catch her name, now he thought about it- and offered her the blade. “Fair lady, wouldest thou accept this, a token of my complete and utter contempt of my family?”

The girl grinned back at him. He eyes were huge and suitably dark; lacquered ebony, hard and unbreakable and stubborn and unmoving. A good choice, he decided.

She reached out- hands much tanner than his- and took the sword. Her strong, callused fingers curled around the ruby-studded hilt (he’d always thought it was rather ironic, how it looked rather like there were huge, permanent beads of blood pooling off his murder weapon) expertly, and her smile grew all the sharper as her black eyes stared challengingly into his blue ones.

He leaned closer and whispered, just louder than a breath: _“Put it to good use.”_

_“I will,”_ she breathed back. She leaned away then, and looked over at the soldiers. Her lips quirked, “I think you’re making them uneasy, Alexander.”

He smiled unrepentantly, extending his wrists to the soldier with the sun-colored eyes. “Well, let’s get a move on, shall we?”

The instant before he was tugged through the door, he looked back at the girl he’d given his sword to. His sapphire eyes glittered as he asked, “What’s your name?”

“Isabela,” was the soft reply.

* * *

 

When they tied him to the stake in the city commons, all he felt was relief.

_It’s finally over. I can go now._

His bright sapphire eyes scanned over the huge crowd. Most looked repulsed and yet magnetized by him: they swirled around his site of execution in a great swarm of horrified, gruesomely intrigued faces.

(He was fairly certain he saw Isabela and someone who could be her little brother- with huge dark eyes and a mass of messy chocolate curls on his head- in the crowd, but he did not call out.

She was wearing his sword at her waist.)

His eyes swept upward… and caught on someone he’d believed he would never see again. Breath stalled in his throat and his remorseless sapphire orbs widened and grew fixed, immovable, in  his skull.

Shocked, horrified, _revolted_ emerald-green-golden eyes with narrow pupils looked back.

Alexander felt tears well up, but he refused to let them fall or even acknowledge them.

_You are a ruthless murderer. Act the part._

That inner voice was entirely his own; and he was not afraid of what would come next.

He only wished his love would not have to see it.

The green-eyed man was watching, alone, from the balcony above the square. He alone could still see Alexander as the merciless (uncaring of the unfolding tragedy it was wreaking) flames swirled up around the dark-haired boy tied to a post beneath him, eyes hard and unyielding but softening in the heat of the lethal blaze; he was blue ice, melting in the heat of the sun, and it was good but it would kill him in the end of it.

Alexander blinked smoke and ash from his eyes, never breaking the stare between Magnus and he.

His lips slipped into a soft, despairing smile, and a single crystalline tear traced down his reddening cheek, stained black with soot. He inclined his head and mouthed three words to the slowly shattering man on the balcony.

_I love you._

There was no point in hiding any more.

Alexander crumpled to his knees in the inferno, willingly giving himself over to the flames as he was eaten alive by the red-gold light. He smiled as he went. (He did not regret his decision.)

Magnus crumbled to the ground, eyes fixed on where his love had last been, tears streaming unheeded down a caramel-skinned face. His mouth was open, screaming itself raw on Alexander’s name.

His heart shattered inside his chest, and he closed gushing green eyes.

Then they opened again, hard and purposeful and self-dooming.

He took a few steps back and breathed deeply, setting his jaw and opening  his eyes.

_I’m coming, Alexander_.

He ran to the edge and vaulted over, falling headlong into the flames.

(He smiled as he fell and as he burned, not regretting his decision.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …  
> …  
> …  
> {Summary, for all ya wimps: Alexander snaps after his father tries to set him up with a bunch of random girls. He kills everyone in the house and runs, for about a month. He meets the current incarnation of Izzy (dubbed Isabela) in a bar and gives her his sword- the one he used to kill everyone- when a bunch of soldiers show up to arrest him. Alexander is executed by fire on the middle of the town square (with Isabela and the current incarnation of Max: Maximus) as Magnus watches from above; when Alexander collapses, Magnus jumps into the flames and dies as well.  
> I know; I just did an interpretation of Romeo and Juliet with a Roman gay couple that were never really together, just “unrequited” pining. No suing.}
> 
> (Also, yes, I know there were no doctorate degrees in Rome. Just roll with the metaphor, okay? Thank you.)  
> (Jace is in this chapter, if you didn't catch him. If you don't know who he is, feel free to comment and ask.)
> 
>  
> 
> Welp, I just destroyed the entire fan base for this story...


	10. Isabela

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah… so I’m doing a chapter for the last incarnation of Izzy (the Roman one). Why? Because I want closure on her character (and Alec PoV is tiring. Sorry, I like switching PoVs in my fics. No suing!) and she’s freaking awesome and very badass.  
> WARNINGS: character death! (Yes, more of it. If you don’t like that, go read my Malicia fluff scene; it should be up by now.) He’s an ass, though, so you probably won’t mind too much. Oh- also, Alexander's and Magnus’s deaths from Isabela's PoV (like you needed to read that again!). If you don’t really want to read that, it’ll be marked with { } and when that's over there’ll be another { } so you’ll know when to drop back in again. Same for the other character death; not your cup of tea? Skip to the { } and you’ll be fine. Other warnings: implied sexual abuse of a minor, parent/child noncon incest, that sort of thing.  
> Sorry. I kinda went all out on the angst with this lifetime. I SWEAR there will be fluff next lifetime, I SWEAR it to Raziel. Don't give up on me yet!  
> Also, ‘pater’ is ‘father’ in Latin. Thought I should drop some terms in here.  
> ONWARDS, MINIONS!!!

Isabela’s head slammed into the wall, blood leaking from the back of her skull. She curled up, tucking sticks of legs against a too-skinny chest, covering her face with her arms and flinching as the man approached.

“Pater, please!” she cried, sobbing in terror and pressing as far back into the wall as she could. “PLEASE!”

Her father paid no mind to her protests. “Come along, Isabela,” he said carelessly, knotting his fist in her hair and tugging her upright by it, dragging her down the hall toward the bedroom her father used to share with her mother but didn’t anymore (her mother died years ago, and Isabela had always suspected it was her father’s doing).

“No, no, no, no…” the girl sobbed, twisting and fighting him at every turn- to no avail. She just was not strong enough.

Her father twisted his fist cruelly, pulling at her dark hair painfully. “Silence, girl! Fulfill your duties; obey your father!”

“Please, Pater, do not-” Her voice choked off on a groan of pain as he slammed a fist into her ribcage.

“Stop fighting me,” he said, voice glacial and politely courteous, “or I will be forced to hurt you. I do not want to hurt you, Isabela, I want to make you feel good. But if you persist in this foolhardy defiance…”

She knew it was a lost cause, but she was too far gone in a horrified sort of numb terror that she couldn't stop fighting. She would always fight, even when there wasn’t a point in it any more.

She screamed and screamed, and fought and fought, all through that first night of horror.

She kept doing it.

It never helped.

 

* * *

 

The only, only bright spot in her neverending torture was that Maximus (Max, her darling little brother, her Max) didn’t know about it.

 

* * *

When Isabela walked into her workplace that day (her father owned the bar, really, but he was gone most of the time- during the day at least- so she ran it, honestly), she knew who the young man with _(freakish)_ sapphire eyes and midnight-black hair and a silver sword with a ruby-studded hilt and sharp enough to cut air: Alexander Gaius Victorious. The famed murderer. Here, in her bar.

She did what anyone else would do: she poured him a drink, sat down across from him, and asked with a smile: “So, how does it feel to be a murderer?”

(Okay, maybe not what everyone else would do. Who cared about what others would do?)

He grinned back at her with far too many teeth and a feral grin to his eyes and replied: “Great, but only if you’ve killed the right people.”

She stared at him, ebony eyes wide, and asked him if, when he was captured, to please not tell anyone she’d let him stay here willingly.

Alexander grinned wider, ivory teeth glinting and cerulean eyes shining, and pulled his sword from the floor.

“Alright,” he replied, “but only if you give me a room with a view!”

 

* * *

 

Isabela was perfectly aware that Alexander was insane. And that he had killed his entire family, and the staff of servants, and burned down his home. And that he might kill her as well.

She didn’t really care, as long as he didn’t kill Max. Though, she would deeply appreciate it if Alexander killed her insane father.

Things considered, even if Alexander did nothing more than sit in his room, hide from the authorities in her inn, and snark with her like she was his friend…

Then Isabela would consider herself his friend, and she would help him, even though he was, after all, a murdering psychopath.

 

* * *

 

When the men came to arrest Alexander, as they inevitably would, as she knew they would, her case was helped by the fact that she had to tell Alexander her name. In front of the soldiers, no less.

He gave her his sword and told her to use it wisely.

Isabela didn’t know how Alexander knew about what her father did to her, but she smiled at him and promised she will, remembering those words from days ago _(“Great, but only if you’ve killed the right people”)_. She nodded and backed away, and inside her head she wished him luck.

For what, she wasn’t sure. She knew all along he would be executed.

For a quick death, perhaps?

Not a happy afterlife. Alexander had no chance with the Judges of the Underworld; he would go to the Fields of Punishment, and he would suffer for eternity.

 

* * *

 

Isabela did it quickly. Max was out with his friends and she wanted- no, she needed to see Alexander’s execution. For closure, perhaps? She wasn’t clear on the why of it, she just knew she _needed_ to do it.

Her father was right where she’d knew he would be.

“Isabela? What is-”

{ }

She snarled at him, lacquered-ebony eyes flaring up in furious and righteous fire, and she drove Alexander's- no, _her_ sword, now- into her father’s chest.

Blood welled up around the lethal silver blade, bursting out of his flabby yet muscular chest with every beat of his self-dooming heart, spraying out on a fountain of red life. Isabela forced herself not to turn away, to not throw up, or watch the life drain from her father at her own hands, with a serial killer’s and lunatic's blade- with an abused and terrified girl’s blade, a girl who really had nothing left to lose.

She stumbled to the bath when it was done, dry-heaved for a few minutes, then burned her bloody clothing and got ready for the execution.

{ }

 

* * *

 

Max didn’t know about any of it. When he came home, she rushed out and, fake tears trailing her cheeks, told him that bandits had broken in and killed their father while she was hidden in a corner. He bought it, helped by the fact that she’d made the inn look like that’s what happened.

It helped that he trusted her.

 

* * *

 

“Come on, Max,” she told him, cinching the sword around her waist and taking her adorable little brother’s hands. “We have an execution to attend, remember?”

 

* * *

 

Isabela saw Alexander immediately.

He was bound to a stake in the center of the square, fuel piled up around his shins- and he was really quite tall-, with masses of people swirling around him in a sort of magnet effect: he was the magnet, pulling them inwards and towards him, inexorable and unstoppable; while the townspeople, try as they might, were iron filings caught in his field and they would not escape. They were caught in a mass haze of horrified, disgusted interest that drew them on on on towards the doomed killer in their midst.

His glacier-blue eyes caught on her and she looked at him, black eyes soft and reassuring- reassuring of what, she didn’t know. All she knew was that she had a responsibility to be here, here for him, because she might be the only person who knew that Alexander Gaius Victorious was a good man, a good person, and he might be insane but that didn’t mean he was evil.

He may have killed his family and quite a few innocents, but Isabela knew he had a damn good reason for doing it- a damn good reason for being crazy, because he hadn’t been born that way. There had been a trigger somewhere, and she was going to blame his trigger for the awful events that had occurred, not Alexander. Never Alexander.

She wished, suddenly, that she had known him for longer than a few weeks; that they had met earlier, that she could have mitigated the trigger. That she could have saved him before this happened.

 

* * *

 

“Bel?”

“Yes, Max?”

“Why are we watching the bad man die?”

“He isn’t bad, Max. Misguided and insane, yes, but that’s not his fault.”

“ … But why? Why are we here?”

“He’s my friend, Max.”

 

* * *

 

{ }

Isabela covered Max’s eyes when the flames went up. Her brother would not watch a man burn to death on her watch.

But Isabela watched. She saw the whole thing.

Merciless ruby-copper-gold-bronze light flared to life around Alexander’s legs, the color a bright contrast to their victim: the sun, wrapping around and claiming a blue and white glacier, a glacier filled to bursting with black shadows. Blue-black-white being consumed by red-copper-gold.

It was beautiful in a way; poetic and haunting and devastatingly lovely.

She cried as she watched, silent crystal drops sliding down tan cheeks from usually emotionless black eyes that were suddenly overflowing in sorrow.

She saw as the (freakish) green-gold-eyed man watching from a balcony above, tears spilling down his caramel cheeks and catching in thick black lashes, cried out Alexander’s name as the length and heat climbed too high for any on the ground to see the dying man.

She saw as the man flung himself from the balcony and consigned himself to the blaze, { } and she understood something she had not before.

 

* * *

 

_“Why did you do it?”_

_“I was tired of being a tool… I missed him.”_

_“Him?”_

_“Magnus.”_

_… “You love him.”_

_“Is that a problem?”_

_“Not to me, no. To you…”_

_“My father.”_

_“I see.”_

_“We understand each other, then?”_

_“I think so.”_

_“Good. I like being understood.”_

 

* * *

_“Do you miss him?”_

_“Who?”_

_“Magnus.”_

_“Yes.”_

* * *

_“Do you think he’d hate me, now?”_

_“Magnus?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“ … No, I don’t.”_

_“Thanks, but you don’t have to lie to me.”_

* * *

_“I think he’d understand why you did it, Alexander.”_

_“I don’t.”_

_“Your judgement is untrustworthy.”_

_“True.”_

* * *

_So that’s Magnus_ , Isabela thought, {watching another body go up in a blaze of light and heat}, like they were two dying stars that would orbit one another for eternity; one dies, the other follows.

_Alexander was wrong, then. Magnus does love him_.

 

* * *

 

_“Does Magnus feel the same?”_

_“No. He never did. He’s better than I am.”_

_… “Isn’t there a saying- ‘It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’? That is an idiotic saying.”_

_“Tell me about it.”_

 

* * *

 

“Goodbye, Alexander,” Isabela whispered, ebony eyes still wet, like a black wood in a rainstorm. “I hope Magnus gets to stay with you.”

She turned, taking Max’s hand as the blaze died down, and she walked away.


	11. Interlude: Jace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OH MY ANGEL I AM SO SORRY I didn't realize I posted the same chapter twice I'm so embarrassed GOD  
> Anyway. It has been fixed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is Jace and not Alec. I think it flows better this way anyhow, putting in little interludes instead of leaping straight into a new lifetime. You get to know a little more about how Alec died, at least.  
> And, as always, suggestions are HIGHLY appreciated. With all the random facts and fandom lore in my head, I’m running low on new ideas for lifetimes. Help the story go on!!!  
> Anyone excited for Jace PoV? I think I write he and maybe Alec best out of the series.  
> Jimon is introduced in this chapter. YAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!  
> ONWARDS, MINIONS!!!

“Jace? Hey! Blondie!”

The golden-haired man in question groans and throws his pillow in the general direction of the voice that is so rudely trying to drag him from slumber. There’s a soft sound and then a triumphant “Hah! Missed me!”

The Shadowhunter looks up blearily and sees a mess of dark curls and dark-framed glasses over deep, chocolate-brown eyes and smooth pale skin dotted with freckles. _Simon_.

Jace fights own the irrational urge to blush, because 1) he does not blush. Ever. And 2) why the hell should he be blushing? It’s just Simon… the hottest and yet most adorable person Jace knows... standing in his bedroom… and Jace has a habit of drooling into his pillows when he sleeps… _Oh Christ_.

He sits up with a yelp of indignation. “Simon! What the hell, man?!”

The brunet grins mischievously at him. “What? I wasn't aware you drooled, Jacey Bear.” He just laughs and ducks quickly as the pencil whizzes past his ear and lodges itself in the doorframe. “Training, man!” Simon says finally. “You said something about wanting to do some early-morning drills or some shit last night…?”

Jace is having a little trouble remembering what happened last night in the still-sleepy fugue he’s in, mixed with irrational embarrassment (because he _is_ shirtless, but since when is that a problem for him?) and that damned instinct that screams to blush and cover himself like a virgin (which he is _not_ , Jesus), and simultaneously that ever-present urge to just get up and press his mouth to Simon’s. Which is just. _What the hell, brain?_

“Be there in ten minutes,” he says finally, when it becomes clear Simon won’t leave without a reply.

The former vampire walks out, but ducks back in, cheeks flushed in that damned adorable way that makes Jace _reeeally_ want to just press little kisses all over the pinked cheekbones. (What the _fuck_ , mind?)

“Jace?” he says, voice quiet and shy like he’s half-hoping Jace won't hear him. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

Simon smiles- a soft, almost sad smile that makes his eyes glow dully- and leaves.

Jace stares at the place where he’d just been, speechless.

_Did…. did he just tell me I’m good-looking?_

The blonde scrubs his hands through his hair with a groan of exasperation at himself and gets up, digging a shirt out of his closet and tugging it on haphazardly.

_Just stop thinking about it!_ he thinks annoyedly, glaring at himself in the mirror as he runs callused fingers through his messy gold hair. _No good can come of your feelings getting in the way... especially when they’re toward him, and they’re that type of feelings. Just stop thinking about it._

_Stop thinking about him._

Jace sighs, standing in his empty room. He knows he won't be able to; knows denial will only work so well for so long. He knows why he feels a constant need to kiss Simon, or hold him, or just goddamn _smile_ at the geeky, sweet brunet. He’s falling fast and dangerously hard, far worse than it ever was with Clary (how could he ever think he loved her as anything more than a sister?), and he can’t stop. He’s far beyond being able to stop.

_Dammit, Simon_ , he thinks to his reflection, bitterly humorous. _You’ve ruined my stellar playboy reputation. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at girls again after this- after you. You’ve turned me gay for you, you sneaky bastard. Hope you’re happy._

Jace sighs and turns away, walking out of his room toward the training room, where he will be subjected to a sweaty, panting, possibly shirtless Simon. Oh god, what the hell has he done?

(He’s not sure he will ever understand why Clary didn't go for Simon when she could, but if she goes for him now, he’ll probably be forced to break her arm or something.

Simon is _his_ , even if no one knows it.

Even if the brunet doesn't want to be.)

((After all, Jace has always been a selfish bastard when it comes to the things he cares about.))

* * *

Jace stumbles into his bedroom, utterly worn out, especially with the crash that comes with the fading of an energy rune. Without Alec (and Jace still flinches, just by thinking his dead _parabatai’s_ name) to guard his and Izzy’s backs, fights have gotten harder. Simon does it now, mostly, with Clary jumping in to help every once in a while. But the redhead fights with runes, not blades, and she tends to stay out of the action most of the time.

Simon has to guard all of them at the same time while also protecting himself. Jace wonders why he never realized how hard Alec’s self-decided role as protector was before, back when Alec did it and not Simon.

Well, okay, yes, he’s noticing because it’s _Simon_ who’s doing it now, but still. He should have realized the toll it took on his brother back when Alec was still there to do it.

A sudden surge of grief chokes Jace and he hunches over, tears pooling at the corners of his brilliant gold eyes. He knows that if he falls asleep now, he is going to have nightmares, but he’s just so damn _tired_ …

He’s asleep and dreaming before he realizes his eyes are closed. Tears leak out from under the closed lids as the blonde man relives the worst day of his life: the day his _parabatai_ , his goddamn _other half_ (but in a platonic way, of course) died.

* * *

 

_(_ What haunts Jace the most is that he might have been able to stop it. _)_

_No one had known something wrong until Jace collapsed from the pain in the kitchen._

_Thing was, Jace had been feeling… off all day, but he hadn't brought it up until the pain was so great he could barely speak through the fiery daggers of agony ripping through his body._

_(He’s heard that when one_ parabatai _dies, the other feels some of the their pain_.

Some.

_That was only part of what Alec felt, in that rundown street that day. A fraction._

_God. Jace’s heart would have stopped from pure agony before he haemorrhaged or choked to death on his blood. He would have died long before Alec did, from the pure pain of the thing.)_

_“JACE!!” the women yelled. Clary dropped to her knees beside her writhing ex-boyfriend and Isabelle ran for the stairs._

_“Izzy?” the redhead asked._

_“Simon!” she explained quickly, not stopping._

_“Jace?” Clary asked, running her small hand over his brow. “Jace, c’mon, talk to me. Jace, please…. Jace, you’re scaring me…”_

_He let out an agonized sound, half groan half strangled scream, and clutched at his chest. He coughed and shuddered, feeling phantom fluids pass not-his lips and thick liquids gush from not-his prone body. He was surrounded by ghostly echoes of agony, howling and tearing at him, ripping at his body, and Jace made that awful sound again._

_His eyes opened a sliver and he gasped out “Alec” through the blood that wasn’t dripping from his lips; “Clary, **Alec**.”_

_The redhead’s hands froze and he heard her terrified gasp, then her desperate cry: “ISABELLE!”_

_The raven-haired beauty rushed down the stairs, hand in Simon’s. The former vampire’s eyes were wide, zeroing in on the huddled ball of Jace on the kitchen floor as the blonde shivered and screamed and convulsed._

_“What’s wrong with him?!” Isabelle demanded, skidding to a stop and dropping to the floor next to the blonde man. “Clary-”_

_“Not him,” the twenty-three year old woman whispered, voice heavy and clogged with unshed tears. She looked at Isabelle, green eyes shining with moisture and fear. “It’s not Jace, Izzy. It’s Alec.”_

_The Lightwood female froze, hands beginning to tremble, ebony eyes widening._

_“No,” she said, voice shaking in desperate denial. “No, no, no, no…”_

_Jace barely heard her through phantom screams and the pounding of his parabatai’s heartbeat in his ears as the blue-eyed man choked on blood and struggled to breathe._

_Simon was the one to take charge. “Isabelle, call Magnus. NOW. Clary, help me get Jace to the infirmary; he’s not gonna be able to do much of anything right now.” He handed his phone to his still-stunned girlfriend, and stared her right in her lacquer ebony eyes. “Now, Izzy.”_

_The only female Lightwood went._

_Clary looped one of Jace’s arms around her shoulders, Simon took the other, and between the two of them they dragged the still-jerking blonde to the lift._

_Jace could feel Simon’s lithe, muscular body pressed to his side, a line of hard heat that burned Jace’s golden skin even through both their layers of clothing. It was a comfort, one Jace knew he shouldn’t want, one that shouldn't even exist, but one he still longed for._

_He closed his eyes to shove the awareness of the former vampire away, just like he usually did. As soon as he did, however, Alec’s terrified, agonized gasps filled his ears and the sight of dark crimson blood bubbling out of his mouth rushed to the forefront of his mind._

_The blonde groaned and hung his head and allowed Simon to take his thoughts away from his dying_ parabatai.

Feel guilty later, _he told himself._ Take comfort where you can now.

_So he tuned out the sounds of Alec dying and inhaled Simon’s unique scent; listened to his breaths and the rustle of his clothes; imagined those lovely chocolate eyes in his head, topped with messy brown curls and hidden behind metal-framed glasses._

_Jace sighed and let Alec’s pain fade away from him, drowned his senses in_ SimonSimonSimon _, and didn’t even realize that it was Alec himself fading, not Jace’s perception of him._

_Alec was dead ten minutes later, and Jace listened to his sister’s agonized sobs over the phone._

* * *

Jace shoots up in bed, arcing over and burying his face in his callused palms. His cheeks are wet and more tears soon follow until he’s sobbing quietly into his hands, shoulders shaking and voice wrecked. His hair hangs in limp, sweat-soaked strands in front of his eyes, brushing his forehead, but he can’t be bothered with such mundane things at the moment.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” the blonde Shadowhunter whispers into the oppressing, shadowy silence of his room over and over. “I’m sorry, Alec, I’m so sorry…”

He doubles over, pain slicing through his chest, feeling like someone has just literally reached into his chest and tugged forcefully on his heart.

“ _Mea culpa, mea culpa, maxima mea culpa!_ ” he gasps, clutching his chest, tears sliding down his face and glinting in the lights of New York City outside his window.

Yes, he didn't kill Alec. Not directly, anyhow.

But he let his brother, his _parabatai_ , go in his last moments; let him die alone and in pain, without even Jace’s mental presence to ease his journey.

He imagines what it must have been like for Magnus, walking into an alleyway that _reeked_ of blood and seeing his boyfriend collapsed on the grimy earth, cut nearly in half, blood soaking the entire scene, and using his last scraps of oxygen to whisper _“I love you”_.

Jace screams into his pillow and falls back asleep to the quiet, ghostlike whispers of _“Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa…”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I'm so evil. *cackles*  
> Yeah, sorry about all that. Couldn't really help myself on that; had to bend to my muse's will, and all that jazz. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> But at least we get Jimon! Yay, Jimon!  
> ALSO, IMPORTANT QUESTION: I'm working a series of little oneshots set between the end of TMI and the chronological start of this one (as in, the chronology of the TMI-era chapters), to explain how the characters got from there to here. Also another mini-series of oneshots: edited canon scenes with hwga(siye) elements thrown in. I'm debating whether or not to post; that's where you guys come in.   
> Please leave a review and tell me whether you want me to start posting those or not, it'd be incredibly helpful to my making a decision. And as always, if you leave a review at all, TELL ME WHERE/WHEN TO SET A NEW LIFETIME. I need inspiration from y'all to keep this going!  
> Thanks so much for reading, minions! Have a lovely day and click the review button because you're all lovely people!  
> <3


	12. Alexia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To NoName: this isn't medieval, sadly, though it might be Victorian. Like I said, I'm really not sure. 8)  
> Cute little baby!Lightwoods ahead! (And then a giant timeskip, but whatever!!) :D I have messed with the ages so that Izzy’s three years younger than Alec, instead of one, and Max is five years younger than Izzy but still eight years younger than Alec. And sorry if it seems a little choppy in the middle; I combined two chapters into one.  
> NOTE: this ‘~’ in dialogue indicates a sing-song or whiny tone. Just thought you’d like to know.  
> And by the way, guess what the special surprise is for this lifetime?  
> Full gender/sex swap. Enjoy.  
> ONWARDS, MINIONS!!!!!!

“Alexia~!” Liam whined, clambering up onto his big sister’s bed. “ _Alexia_!”

“Huh, whazzat?” Alexia groaned, hand shooting out to grab her little brother's arm and dragged the warm ball of little sibling up towards her face. She squinted. “Liam? Wha…”

“Maxie’s up again!” the young boy informed her solemnly. “She’s on the move!”

She groaned, struggling to sit up, rubbing her eyes. “Mom ‘n’ Dad?”

“Never came home.”

Alexia sighed; no less than she’d expected. “Yeah.”

The black-haired girl dragged herself out of bed, blue eyes still hazy. She scooped up Liam on her way out of bed, tucking the small five-year-old under her arm like a football. He giggled and wrapped one small, chubby arm around his big sister’s waist. She was strong for an eight-year-old; probably had something to do with lugging her younger siblings around everywhere, she would grumble good- naturedly.

“Maxie?” Alexia called, wandering down the halls of their large, empty house. They’d adjusted to its eeriness; the dark corners and long echoing corridors no longer scared Alexia or Liam, though Maxie still cringed and cried sometimes.

“Maxie?” Liam joined his big sister’s call.

A small, plaintive wail could be heard over the landing.

Alexia’s sapphire eyes lit up. She carefully placed her little brother on the ground and then raced down the curling staircase, wavy black hair flowing out behind her. “Maxie? Maxie, can you come to Alexia? Yeah, can you come to Alexia?”

Her little sister cooed. She could see the baby now; Maxie was wrapped in a soft, plushy blanket, but had managed to wrangle the thing so it draped over her little shoulders and wrapped around her arms like a coat. She was crawling along the downstairs foyer, head up and eyes wide and curious.

“‘Exi?” she said.

Alexia came to a full stop. Her eyes widened.

“Liam… did she just…”

Her little brother squealed and flung himself against her legs. He’d come down the stairs before she’d noticed. “Maxie’s first word!”

“‘Exia!” the baby squeaked again, crawling over to her big sister and sprawling over her bare feet, looking up into wide, shocked eyes the same color as her own.

Alexia’s eyes filled with tears. She dropped to her knees, picked up her baby sister and pressed the little girl to her chest. Her other arm reached out and curled Liam against her side.

“Hey Maxie,” she said tearfully, staring into eyes the same clear cerulean as her mother and herself.

“Exi!” Maxie gurgled, reaching up to tug on a strand of Alexia’s long raven hair.

She stifled a sob and hugged her baby sister to her chest.

 

* * *

 

That day, as it turned out, was a sort of omen. The Lightwood parents, being Shadowhunters, weren’t around very often. Mary Herondale had married into the Lightwood family through Robert Lightwood, elder sibling of two, and brought her wondrous eyes with her. The dark hair was unusual in Herondales, but not in Lightwoods, and Alexia and Maxandria, her younger sister, were the perfect combination of both families. Liam took after their father in both looks and temperament; fiery and swift in temper, dark and alluring in looks. Liam would have quite the following when he was older.

By the time Alexia was fifteen and in training, her younger siblings already saw her as both father and mother.

Her parent’s decision to train both her and Maxie was a source of discussion in many families. Girls in Shadowhunter families were often left out to dry in that they were raised to be, quite frankly, ‘weak little useless things fit only to be wives and mothers’.

(Alexia was not the one who said that. She was a proper young lady off the battlefield.)

The fact remained that by training his daughters, Robert Lightwood was giving them a chance not often found in that day and age.

Even if he was simply allowing them to train and gave them a tutor and never spoke to them himself, he was still training them. Or so the Clave said. Actually, they had more than a tutor at this point: they had Jessica, though she preferred to be called Jess. She was Mary’s cousin, another Herondale; her parents had died in a demon attack when she was ten and she’d come to live with them when Alexia was ten. She was an _amazing_ fighter.

“Lexi!” Jess called. “Meal’s ready!”

The dark-haired Shadowhunter flipped over a bar and came down on the balls of her feet, soundless as her old (now-dead) small black cat, Grace.

“Coming!” she called.

 

* * *

 

Alexia had never really understood why her parents had named Maxie and her the same thing.

Really, they actually had.

Well, not in so many letters, but their names held the same meaning: _Defender of the People_. Maxie just had _Greatest_ attached to the front, which was actually a bit hurtful now that Alexia thought about it. Liam’s name was better: _Strong-Willed Warrior._ Certainly fit him; he was incredibly stubborn and hard-headed at times, but he was also an amazing fighter.

Jessica, now; her name was just more boosting material for her ego. Alexia had never met a girl so in love with herself. _God Beholds. Please, everyone else is already staring at the Golden Girl, does God have to ogle his creation too?_ Alexia would wonder helplessly.

She’d wondered why her parents had basically reused her name on her little sister many times, but she'd never asked. Honestly, she was a little afraid of the answer.

* * *

Alexia groaned, flopping face-first onto her bed ungracefully. Liam followed her in still in leather gear, running his callused hands through his messy dark locks.

“Lexi, you better get up and get dressed before Mother sees you,” he warned her unnecessarily. She knew what her mother would do But she was so tired… and her feet hurt so much… and she was so tired…

The blue-eyed teen released another groan into her pillow and sat up, tugging off the leather tunic she wore over the normal gear to cover herself. She might be learning to fight demons, but her mother insisted upon _some_ level of decency even when training.

“Get out, Liam,” she said, tugging her boots off and laying them beside the door. Her brother didn’t move. “Liam-”

“I’m worried about Maxie,” he said suddenly, large hands worrying at the hem of his black shirt.

Alexia went still. “What do you mean?”

“There’s… there’s something wrong with her. She keeps, I dunno, _looking_ at me funny. You too, you just don’t notice. And I saw her look at Jess that same way a couple times.”

“That doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with her,” the older Lightwood said slowly.

“Well, no, but… there’s this feeling I get around her sometimes. Like a chill running down my spine. And then I hear a laugh.”

“What kind of laugh?” his sister asked, trying not to panic.

The fourteen-year-old boy bit his lower lip, looking at his sister. “It’s… sinister. And cruel. And happy- happy that I can hear it and that it scares me. It wants to scare me…”

Alexia’s eyes filled with tears and she buried her face in her hands, gear half-off and hair a frizzy black mess. “Liam,” she sobbed, “we need to go to the library.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Liam said desperately, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She raised her face to his, salty drops staining her cheeks. “We need to research demonic possessions.”

 

* * *

 

Alexia’s heart felt like lead, weighing her down. Her feet clomped against the wood floor loudly, sounding- to her, at least- like the footsteps of an elephant. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears and her vision was spotted with bright dots of color.

_My little sister might be possessed by a demon._

Liam was valiantly holding back sobs beside her, hand clamped over his mouth and dark eyes flat and blank. Try as she might, tears slipped past her eyelids and trailed along her cheeks every few minutes, soaking into the collar of her dress. She had changed out of her gear in a daze, blue eyes overflowing and hands ice cold and trembling. One porcelain hand was clamped in her brother’s, tight as a vice, and she wasn't planning to let go anytime soon.

 _Maxie_ …

“Are you sure?” Liam said, voice stunned into steadiness.

“No,” she said, “that’s why we’re checking.”

“But it’s what you think.”

“Yes.”

Liam lapsed into silence again.

Alexia didn’t start talking again, instead letting her heartbeat and her footsteps take over her auditory senses and her eyes blur with tears that clumped together in her thick black lashes and escaped down her sharply angled cheeks one at a time.

She chanted her little sister’s name in her head and hoped as hard as she could that she was, for once, wrong about what was wrong with her sibling.

 _Maxie_...

* * *

“Lexi.”

Liam stood before her, fingers white-knuckled around the spine of a thick book.

Alexia reached out with trembling hands to grasp the tome that announced her sister’s doom and flipped open to the bookmarked page.

_Demonick Possession_

She shuddered, looking up at Liam.

“Yes?”

Her younger brother didn’t need clarification. His already black eyes went the color of obsidian, just as shimmery as the dark stone but with tears, not light.

“Yes,” he said, and Alexia’s heart dropped into a pit of acid. His eyes overflowed and a single droplet slid down his sharply angled cheekbone. “Yes. The book confirms it.”

His older sister’s head collided with the table as she released a loud sob.

“What do we _do_?” Liam asked, wringing his hands.

Alexia pulled herself together abruptly, stifling the desperate, broken sobs that wanted to tear through her chest and raised her head from the table, dashing the tears from her cheeks.

“We,” she said decisively, stepping effortlessly into the role of _parent_ that she’d been in since Liam was born, “are going to fix this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. Maxie’s a demon. (Well, possessed by one, anyway.) Please don’t kill me!! It’s not like I'm gonna kill her… right? I’m not gonna kill her?
> 
> TMI Muses: It’s a possibility.  
> Me: But I don’t wanna kill her! She’s awesome! Cassie never gave her- well, him, I suppose- a chance!!!  
> Muses: Too bad. If we want her to die, she’ll die.  
> Maxie: Thanks, guys.  
> Muses: It’s canon. We can do whatever the hell we want with you.
> 
> This concludes the insight into my insanity…  
> Yes, I messed with Izzy’s name. I was originally going to name her Isaac, but ‘He will laugh’ didn't fit nearly as well as Liam’s ‘Strong-Willed Warrior’ did. Izzy isn’t really a laughing type when it comes down to it.  
> Yes, Alexia and Maxandria mean basically the same thing. Actually, I came across Maxandria in a Malec kid fic: it’s the combination of their names, great and defender of the people. Alexia’s a little sore over that… and for good reason, though I won't spoil that yet.  
> Clark/Silena (aka Clary/Simon. Shut up about the names) should show up soon.   
> Love ya, minions! Please review and have a lovely weekend~


	13. Clark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to a positively lovely anon on Sealed Records. This update is for you, darling!  
> Please note: Clark has an accent, and I’m writing to show that. Also, I'm not British, so I apologize that the terminology they're using is pretty much all American, despite being set in England. Sorry!  
> ONWARDS, MINIONS!!!

Clark flopped onto his stomach with a loud groan. “Lena, feed meh!”

His best friend and housemate (“No, we are not together! We are JUST FRIENDS!!”) Silena whacked his shoulder, frowning at him. “Get your own food, lazy one!”

“But ah’m ti~ired!” the redhead whined, rolling onto his back and looking up at the tall girl with wide green puppy eyes.

Silena covered her eyes dramatically. “NO! Spare me your puppy eyes, sirrah, for they are too potent for the mortal mind to withstand!”

“T’at’s t’e point!” Clark quipped, pulling her hands away and letting the full power of his puppy eyes bore into Silena's dark gaze.

After a few moments of this, she hauled back and punched him in the arm irritably. When he leapt back, yelping and rubbing his arm, she strolled out the door and down the stairs.

“Ya know ya love meh!” he yelled down the stairs after her.

“That’s just you!” she called back.

Clark relaxed back onto his bed with a smirk, laying one arm over his eyes and letting the smirk evolve into a grin.

Silena and he had been friends since they were very little, and their bond had only grown stronger as they aged. Not, as many suspected or even accused, into romance. No, they were the best of friends, surrogate siblings bonded through a lifetime of close proximity and shared qualities.

Clark’s grin faltered when he thought of the shared qualities.

They could never fall in love, because both of them were freaks who didn’t care for the opposite sex.

Silena loved girls, and Clark loved boys, and they were outcasts.

Of course, no one aside from themselves knew of their romantic preferences, but that was why they lived together in the house by themselves. No one to bother them or find out their secret.

Clark sighed and got up. He really was hungry.

* * *

 

They were Shadowhunters, the two of them, but they rarely saw any other Nephilim and almost never hunted with more than each other.

Clark’s family, the Fairchilds, adopted Silena when her parents were killed on a hunt when they were both five. The dark-eyed girl hardly remembered them now, thinking of the Fairchilds as her family and Clark as her brother (though that still didn’t stop the speculation of their non-existent affair), but she had elected to carry on the family name of Trueblood. She actually didn’t look much like one except for her dark chocolate eyes and pale skin that blushed easily- her dusky brown curls, freckles, and slender-not- muscular form offset the image- but she was one, so she kept the name and her lineage.

Clark was proud of his sister for that.

She’d explained to his parents, Jacob and Lucy, that she wanted to keep the name “to continue the family line”.

Clark knew that was bullshit, as neither he nor Silena would ever have children- no attraction to the opposite sex, remember? And besides, it wasn’t like she was the _only_ Trueblood; she had cousins somewhere else in Europe- France, maybe, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know her real reason for keeping her name, but he didn’t ask.

Clark and Silena fit together better than most blood siblings, better than quite a few married couples, which was- Clark thought- the reason so many people mistook them for lovers. But no, they were simply mistakes together in a world that was all about conformity.

Broken puzzle pieces on a mismatched board.

They fit like shards of a broken window: seamless and sharp and deadly in the right hands. They were discussing becoming _parabatai_ \- they already were in everything but name and mark- but that would take away the rumors, and even though Clark hated them both he and Silena needed them, desperately, to keep up their cover.

They’d decided on not doing it, at least not yet.

They had time.

* * *

Night fell and they got their gear on. Clark slipped a third seraph into his belt- never could be too careful when you know there’s no backup coming- and asked his best friend, “Ready?”

“Let’s kick some demon arse,” the taller Shadowhunter replied snappily. Clark laughed.

(Yes, his female best friend being taller than he was a sore point, but it's not like there was anything he could do about it.)

They walked out onto the misty streets of nighttime London ready for a fight and armed to the teeth.

* * *

They had not expected to meet anyone else on that fateful hunt that nearly took Silena’s life, but for the rest of his life, Clark would be profoundly grateful that they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and suspenseful... ;)Who do think they meet? (It’s pretty obvious, really.) What happens to Silena? Where am I going with this? How is this going to work out, being in the Victorian Era and the fact that that come with period-typical homophobia? WHEN THE EFF IS MAGNUS GONNA SHOW UP?!  
> All shall be answered in good time, young disciples… just wait. Patience, grasshoppers.  
> ;)  
> (also, COMMENT OR I SHALL STRIKE YOU DOWN WITH MY AWESOME AUTHORY POWERS THAT I TOTALLY HAVE!!!)


	14. Alexia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAH I'M SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN FOREVER  
> School starts back up on Tuesday and I have a ton of work to get through before then, so weekly updating isn't really an option anymore... SORRY!!! I'll do my best to update regularly, I promise!  
> In other news... yeah, not that much, just me begging for forgiveness.  
> ONWARDS, MINIONS!!!

Alexia frowned at her brother, brow creased. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to leave Max here alone?”

“We don’t have another choice,” Liam argued.

She sighed and shook her head. “No… no, you are right, we do not. Not with her…” She couldn’t say it. “... like this.”

Liam bit his lower lip and nodded.

“Let us go, then,” his older sister said, gripping her stele and swiftly drawing a Strength rune on her left forearm. “There are plenty of demons in this city.”

Liam followed his sister wordlessly out into the streets.

* * *

 

It was when they were walking along the streets, turning toward the river, when they heard it.

A sharp cry of pain, a thump, and a demon’s triumphant howl.

The siblings looked at one another and started running.

They burst into an alleyway (of course an alleyway, why would demons attack anywhere else?) and saw two people surrounded by Eidolons.

One was on the ground, sword held up to fend off a demon, dark hair barely visible against the nearly black dirt. It was a girl, her brown eyes fearful behind cracked spectacles, and there was a large hole in her shoulder that had punched right through her leather gear. The other was a male, a redhead by the looks of it. He was standing and fighting indiscriminately, obviously trying to get to his partner.

Alexia and Liam glanced at one another before throwing themselves into the fray.

The older girl dodged a strike, rolling and slicing upwards, neatly taking off the Eidolon’s arm.

“I hate these things!” Liam yelled, stabbing another one in the chest.

“Try bein’ mobbed by ‘em wi’out backup!” replied the redhead through a thick Cockney accent, cutting one in half. “And t’en watchin’ your partner be stabbed!”

“I’ll be _fine_ , Clark, stop worrying!” the wounded girl yelled over the noise of battle.

Alexia finished off her demon and stabbed the one threatening the girl neatly through the chest. She dropped to her knees beside her on the bloody ground, fishing out her stele and placing it against the girl’s pale collarbone next to where the wound was.

“What’s your name?” the Lightwood asked in an attempt to make the girl focus.

It worked; she turned her head away from the redhead, facing Alexia with pained brown eyes. “‘M Silena,” she muttered vaguely, clenching her teeth at the burn of the _iratze_. “Silena Trueblood. The annoying redhead’s m’ partner, Clark Fairchild.”

“Partner?” Alexia asked carefully. “ _Parabatai_ , or…”

“Neither, and I’m tired of people assuming that.” Silena frowned, rubbing her shoulder as she sat up cautiously. Her other hand was planted on the hard ground, soaked with her blood.

“I apologize,” Alexia replied, gripping her seraph blade and sliding her stele back into her belt, “but I think the Eidolons are a bigger concern at the moment.”

Silena bared her teeth at the foul creatures and gripped the hilt of her own blade possessively. “Indeed.”

* * *

 

Between the four of them, the Eidolons were finished within another fifteen minutes. Alexia smiled at Silena and gestured to her bloody shirt.

“Would you happen to know a place I can wash off? My mother will have a fit if I come home looking like this.”

“Who are you, anyway?” Clark asked, slipping his seraph into his belt.

“Alexia and Liam Lightwood.” Liam replied, walking up and slipping his arm into the crook of his sister’s elbow. “I’m fifteen, and Lexi’s eighteen.”

“Lena’s seventeen,” Clark admitted. “I’m sixteen-”

“Barely,” Silena broke in, smirking at her friend. “Your birthday was last month.”

“Shush!” he said, blushing.

“Oh, well… do you?” Alexia asked, returning them to the original topic. “My mother hates bloody clothes, especially when I am the one wearing them.”

“Yes, sure,” Silena said, grinning at them. “We live together, down that way,” she pointed. “And don’t start telling us we’re together, because we are not.”

“A-Alright,” Liam said, a little intimidated.

“Good,” Silena smiled. It looked a little feral. “That is a subject of annoyance for both of us, and we will get along if you two start talking about it. We. Are. Just. Friends.”

“Alright,” Alexia said gently, “we get that. You can calm down now.” She sounded a little like she was calming a wild animal, and she felt like it too.

“Let us go!” Silena cried into the night, skipping merrily away.

Liam leaned in close to Clark. “Is she quite all right?”

“She’s a bi’ batty,” the redhead shrugged, “but overall she’s qui’e sane. Not a danger t’ anyone but the demons and people who insinuate she an’ I are courting.” His accent stretched the vowels out and snapped the consonants, and Alexia could almost _see_ her little brother’s intrigue growing by the syllable.

“I see,” Liam nodded, a bit quickly.

“Shall we?” Clark asked, and jokingly held out his arm to Liam, like a gentleman would for a lady.

To everyone’s surprise, Liam inclined his head and took it, gliding like a young woman in a evening gown. “I would be honored,” he said, and even his voice was suddenly feminine: sliding, honey-sweet and slow, out of his mouth to hang appealingly in the air.

Alexia was gaping at her little brother- _What in Raziel’s name is Liam_ doing _?!_ \- but Clark just went with it after a few moments of silent staring. “Let us depart, then, from this dreary alley,” the redhead said regally, stepping over a mound of decomposed demon. Liam strode alongside him happily.

Alexia brought up the rear, shaking her head and muttering, “Is _anyone_ here sane?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for instant friendship!  
> Magnus isn’t here yet… :’( But he shall arrive soon, I promise! In the meantime, I give you Clark/Liam bonding and Jess/Silena introduction and sort-of courting between Clark and Liam (apparently Claribelle goes off fast in any lifetime).  
> Farewell, darlings! Comment please!


	15. Jess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCK WHAT I SAID ABOUT ONE UPDATE PER WEEKEND I HAVE MONDAY OFF AND I DO WHAT I WANT SCREW MY HOMEWORK  
> Also: Did someone say something about J(ace) POV??  
> ONWARDS, MINIONS!!!

“Jessica!”

Jess’s head jerked up. “Mary?”

“I need you to find Alexia and Liam. They’ve been gone for nearly three hours!”

Jess sighed and got up. “Yes, Aunt Mary.”

She trudged to the library and wrote a fire message: _Lexi? Mary is worried. Tell me where you two are._

She got a quick reply: _We’re at an independent Shadowhunter house- not an Institute, a house with a pair of Nephilim living in it. You should come over; we could really use your help with a problem. (Not demons.)_

Jess sighed at her cousin and got up.

“Mary!” she called down the corridor. Mary’s head popped out of her room.

“Yes?”

“They’re at a house owned by a couple of Shadowhunters. Alexia says they’re fine, and she wants me to join them.”

“Oh.” The older woman looked a little stunned and a lot relieved. “Oh, well… if that’s the case… certainly you may go, Jess. Be armed.”

Jess smiled faintly at the customary warning. “I know, Aunt. Thank you.”

She got her gear on, slipped a couple of seraphs into her belt as well as her stele, and ran out into the streets.

* * *

 

Jess walked along the dark, empty streets. A mist was falling and she turned her face up to revel in the cool water sliding along her cheek and collecting in her eyelashes and eyebrows. She smiled; there were no demons about and she would hear any if they appeared. She could enjoy the rain.

She sighed and pulled her face down. No, she couldn’t, not really. She had a few cousins to find.

(Cousins who felt more like siblings, but whatever, right?)

* * *

 

“I swear, Alexia, are you _trying_ to give your mother a heart attack?” Jess asked wryly, standing in the doorway and dripping onto the floor.

Her older cousin yelped. “Don’t _do_ that, Jess! ...Why are you all wet?”

“It’s raining,” Jess replied dryly. “People get wet when it rains.”

Alexia rolled her eyes and found a towel for somewhere, rubbing Jess’s blonde head vigorously. The younger woman tried to jerk away, sopping blonde ringlets and all, but Alexia tightened her grip and held on until Jess was dry.

“Thanks, Lexi,” the blonde deadpanned.

Alexia smiled, willfully ignoring her cousin’s tone. “You are welcome. Now-”

Liam burst into the room, shrieking bloody murder, as a redheaded boy about the same age tore after him.

“Dammi’, Liam, give i’ back!” the boy yelled. Jess blinked; he had a rather thick Cockney accent. It was unexpected.

“NEVER!!” her cousin cried in return.

Alexia reached out and grabbed her little brother’s sleeve. He skidded to an abrupt halt and fell on his bum.

The redhead cackled. “Go’ ya now, Liam!” He looked over at the dark-eyed boy’s older sister and nodded respectfully. “T’anks, Alexia.”

“Lexi, please,” the blue-eyed girl said distractedly. “Liam, what on earth-”

“He took ma stele,” the redhead interjected.

Alexia hauled Liam up and smacked him.

“Ow!” her dramatic little brother cried.

Alexia’s eyes held no trace of mercy. “Liam…”

He caught onto her tone and submitted instantly. “Sorry Clark.”

The redhead blinked. Then he took a second glance at Alexia and decided it was genuine. “Jus’ don' do it again, pipsqueak.”

“I’m not a pipsqueak!” the dark-eyed boy yelled, renewing his struggles. “I’m only a few months younger than you!”

The redhead patted Liam’s dark head mock-condescendingly. “Sure ye are.”

“You are rather short for your age, Liam,” Jess put in. Her little cousin glared at her in betrayal.

The redhead looked at her for the first time. “‘Ello! Who are yah?”

Jess stuck out her hand and smirked at him. “Jessica Herondale, at your service- as long as you don’t kill my idiot cousin over there.”

“Hey!” Liam yelled again. They ignored him.

The redhead shook her hand. His palm was callused and quite warm. “Clark Fairchild, a’ yairs. I won’, just wanna torture ‘im a bit.”

Jess grinned. “I’m not objecting to that.”

“I hate you all,” Liam grumbled, crossing his arms and pouting out his lower lip.

“Shush, Liam,” Alexia said with a smirk. (It ran in the family.) “We have work to do, remember?”

“Oh, yes,” Jess remembered. “The problem you wanted me to help solve, correct?”

Alexia nodded, blue eyes going dark. Liam hung suddenly limp in her grasp, lower lip trembling.

Clark released her hand and stepped back. “T’ey need all t’e help they can get,” he said sadly. “Silena and I’ll only be able to do so much.”

“Silena?” Jess asked.

Clark jerked a thumb behind him. “In t’ere. She’s been lookin’ t’rough books an’ such.”

Jess wiped her hands down her leather shirt. “Well, count me in then. Reading, yay.”

* * *

Jess considered herself _the_ snark queen. But even she had to admit that Silena Trueblood was indeed her match. The brunette Shadowhunter fired off several blonde jokes and gave her possibly the best eye-roll in history, all within a few minutes of Jess being in the room. The girl was truly gifted.

They grinned and shook hands when it was done.

“Jessica Herondale,” the blonde girl said. “Good to see someone else has attained snark-queen status in this city.”

The other girl smirked at her, and oh dear Lord was that a sight to see. “Silena Trueblood, and no, I am not a vampire.”

Jess’s mouth snapped shut. _Dammit_.

* * *

After the mandatory freakout when Alexia and Liam explained their theory, Jess sat down next to Silena and started researching mechanically, thoughts whirring a mile a minute.

How could she not notice her adorable little cousin was _possessed_? Actually, according to the others, Liam was the one to realize- and that didn’t sit well with Jess. Lexi was the mother of the house, not Mary; she payed more attention to her siblings (and, by extension, Jess) than she did to eating some days! How on earth could she not notice a _demon_ lurking in her precious younger sister’s body? It didn’t make sense… and Jess _knew_ the older girl was beating herself up inside for not noticing sooner.

She groaned and flopped face-first into a book.

Silena’s hand rubbed over her back, leaving a trail of warmth where her skin touched cloth that burned into Jess’s skin even through the leather. “It’ll be alright, Jess. We can fix this.”

Jess wondered what it said about their lives that a pair of complete strangers were willing to help them get their relative un-possessed within a day of knowing them.

 _Thinking is too much work_ , she decided, and went back to looking through demonic texts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maxie: AM I GONNA DIE?!  
> Me: How the hell should I know?  
> Maxie: YOU’RE THE FUCKING AUTHOR!!  
> Me: I though we went over this already! I have no effing idea what’s gonna end up on this page!  
> Muses: Yep. She has no free will. WE CONTROL ALL, BITCHES.  
> Heh heh… *whispers* Get back in the closet you idiots! They're not supposed to know you’re alive!!  
> Anyway. Heh. YOU SAW NOTHING.
> 
> And diverting from my insanity: I HAVE A WRITING BLOG ON TUMBLR. Meet new characters, explore my multiverse, ask anything you want (and if you address it to a specific character, I'll even let them respond!), and get spoilers for stories I haven't even published yet. :) Username is nerdlingqueenwrites. See you there! ;)


	16. Alexia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY I KNOW IT'S BEEN OVER A MONTH I WAS WORLDBUILDING AND FINISHING UP MORNINGSTAR ASCENDING (also if you haven't read that and are willing to go through "Simon"/OFCs and canon pairings, PLEASE CHECK IT OUT) AND the shadows sing my name (the heavens scream it) HAS BEEN EATING MY LIFE  
> BUT I HAVE NO HOMEWORK THIS WEEKEND AND ALMOST NO RESPONSIBILITIES  
> SO I WILL BE SPENDING MOST OF MY TIME WRITING MY ASS OFF \0/  
> PLEASE LOVE ME
> 
> And now that's over...  
> ONWARDS, MINIONS!!!

Alexia’s head lolled back on her neck limply, eyes burning. She felt like an overcooked noodle from being up all night researching. Her mother had sent several fire messages during the night, trying to ascertain her whereabouts. Alexia had replied that she and Liam were with friends and they were safe in an independent Shadowhunter’s house.

 _We’re fine, Mother,_ she had written. _Jess arrived safely and we will be spending the night. We are researching a particular type of demon because Liam is having a bit of trouble fighting it._

Mary had accepted the lie and left her children and cousin alone after that. They were now sprawled in various positions around the setting room fire. Liam was fast asleep and half-on Clark’s back as the redhead snored gently, one strong arm wrapped around the younger boy to keep him from falling onto the floor.

Alexia smiled gently at the pair. If she was right… well, she didn’t want to think about that yet, but _oh_ how she hoped she was right.

Silena was sitting upright with her head tipped back against the couch cushions, hair cascading down her peaceful face. Jess had fallen asleep with a small smile on her tanned-golden face and an arm around Silena’s thin shoulders.

Alexia’s smile widened.

She was not ashamed or horrified by her little brother or her cousin. She’d known Jess preferred the company of other women since she’d walked in on the blonde and another girl kissing when they were both fifteen. Jess had screamed and the other girl had left- she was dark-haired and dark-eyed, and Alexia was pretty sure her name started with A- but Alexia had plopped onto Jess’s bed and wrapped her arms around her cousin and told her, in no uncertain terms, that she was not going to reject her. Ever. No matter what she did, Alexia would never abandon her.

Jess had sobbed into the older girl’s shoulder as Alexia stroked her curls and whispered quiet reassurances into her ears and held back her own tears.

(She had been the replacement mother for her siblings since she was eight; she could do the same for her cousin.)

As for Liam… well, Alexia had had her suspicions for a long time. Aside from her little brother’s occasional womanly behavior- last night included- his eyes always seemed to linger on the other men (who more often than not walked away from the young boy), not the girls who so clearly wanted him (and were never wanted in return).

As for Alexia herself…. she wasn't sure whom she liked. Both men and women were aesthetically pleasing to her and she’d fantasized about kissing faceless members of both sexes. It didn’t really matter to her what the person's sex was, only if they were appealing in the personality department. Maybe she liked both? It seemed pretty likely that that was the case.

So she smiled at the tangled-up piles of Nephilim and prayed to God that they could be happy.

 _Take my happiness as an offering_ , she prayed on impulse. _If it makes them happy, then take my happiness away. Just give them a happy ending, God, please._

It was always her for them, her life for Liam’s and her safety for Maxie and her loyalty and devotion for Jess, the cousin who was more sister than anything else. Always her for them. She could give up her Heaven if it meant they got it.

Her hand slapped the table as she stood up suddenly, blue eyes wide with inspiration. She flipped through the books, a half-formed memory from some time last night flitting through her head.

“Where is it… where is it…” she muttered to herself. Then she stopped, gaze fixed on her little sister’s salvation.

“Yes,” she breathed, reading voraciously. Only when she finished digesting and memorizing the information did she rip out a sheet of blank paper and scribble _found cure going home don’t worry_ on it before she was tugging on her gear and shoving her weapons into her belt and dashing out the door.

Liam snuffled and cuddled further into Clark’s embrace; the red-haired boy’s arms tightened instinctively. They slept on.

On the table Alexia had used, the book was still flipped open to her page with the note on the dark wood beside it. If one were to look at said book at that moment in time, they would see the title of the information recorded within in large, bold letters in an old script: Transferral of evil spirits. It went on to describe how to move a demon from one vessel to another and how the easiest one was the human-to-human transfer. Alexia had stabbed her pen through the page in her excitement.

The book lay undisturbed on the table, unaware of the horrible events its contents had just put in place.

The house and its occupants slept on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad Lexi!! DO NOT BE THE SELF-SACRIFICIAL LAMB!!!! MALEC CANNOT HAPPEN IF YOU DIE!!!!!!  
> Spoiler alert: this is actually how Magdelexia happens. Alexia tries to get herself possessed.  
> Will she succeed in her endeavor?... I guess you’ll just have to wait and find out. In the meantime, Liark cuddles.  
> Please follow my writing blog: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nerdlingqueenwrites I WILL LOVE YOU


	17. Liam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of the Day Of Candy And Costumes, and because I'm finally writing a new chapter after three months of crippling writer's block. (It's already eleven pages long and someone's gonna die next chapter. Oops... spoilers!  
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯)  
> Anyway. Liam POV, and Magdelena makes her debut! (Gah I love her. :D)  
> ONWARDS, MINIONS!!!

Liam woke up slowly, gradually becoming aware of the strong arm wrapped around his midsection and the red curls tickling his nose. He sneezed and looked up into Clark’s sleeping face, and he grinned shyly.

_He’s so handsome…_ he swooned inside his head. Then he slumped dejectedly. _And I’m_ me.

The Lightwood boy looked over at his cousin and giggled softly.

Her blonde curls were messy and fell over her face in a golden curtain, head tipping forward and mouth curving upward. Silena was snuggled next to her, arms pressed against her chest since the space between the two girls was tiny. Jess’s arms were thrown protectively around the brunette Nephilim and Silena's head was tucked neatly under the blonde’s chin. Both the girls had little, peaceful smiles on their faces.

Liam fought the urge to squeal.

He suddenly realized his own precarious position, balanced atop Clark and the sofa, and upon realization he promptly flailed about, got out of Clark’s grip, and thumped to the floor.

“Owww…” he groaned, rubbing his head and sitting up.

Clark snuffled and rolled over, rubbing his eyes absent-mindedly.

“Mornin’, Liam,” he muttered sleepily.

Liam blushed. _Angel_ , that _accent_ … The way Liam’s name sounded in Clark’s mouth always managed to send little sparks down the younger boy’s spine.

Clark smirked sleepily. “‘Ello, Sirrah. ‘ow do ye fare this morn?”

Liam squeaked in embarrassment and hid his face in his hands. “I hate you,” he mumbled.

Clark’s laugh rumbled in his chest. “Sure ye do,” he said fondly.

Liam pouted and got to his feet. His sister was suspiciously absent.

He glanced at the table and froze.

Clark seemed to realize something was off. He got to his feet and went to Liam’s side, hand landing on the younger Shadowhunter's shoulder. “Liam…?”

“No,” the dark-eyed boy whimpered. “No, no, _no_ …”

His sister’s note mocked him in its nonchalance, her calming words at odds with the page the book was open to and the words scribbled into the margins in a desperate hand. He turned to Clark with wide, panic-stricken eyes. “Clark-”

The muscular redhead glanced down at what had made the slender dark-haired boy so afraid and stiffened. “Oh Raziel no…” he breathed, green eyes flashing in horror.

“What do we do?” Liam asked helplessly. “She’s long gone…”

“We get ‘elp,” Clark said, hands clenching. “We ge’ someone who ken exorcise a demon.”

“Clark?” Silena’s sleep-dull voice broke in. “What…?”

“Alexia’s gone off t’ ge’ ‘erself possessed by a demon,” her best friend muttered, voice strained.

Silena was suddenly at Liam's side, brown eyes stricken. “A warlock, you said?” she asked, hands clutching at the wood of the table. Clark nodded.

“That French one down near the river,” she said. “What’s her name- Magdelena, yes?”

Clark nodded again. “She’s said t’ be very powerful.”

“Why are we looking for a warlock?” Jess said, startling everyone. She was standing right behind Silena and as the brunette looked at her, Jess’s arms slid around her waist to perch her chin on the shorter girl’s shoulder and peer at the table’s contents. She groaned. “What has my idiot cousin done now?”

“She’s gone an’ foun’ a spell t’ transfer the demon in Maxie inta herself,” Clark growled.

Liam surreptitiously slid his hand into the redhead’s, squeezing gently. Clark’s face softened slightly and he squeezed back, pressure just as light.

“Well?” Jess said. Her hands slipped from Silena’s hips and perched on her own. (Liam elected to ignore the flash of sadness on the brunette’s face at the loss.) “What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go get us a warlock and go rescue my cousin from her stupidity!” She grinned brightly, amber eyes flashing.

Liam smiled tremulously back and held Clark’s hand tighter.

* * *

Magdelena Le Yeux-Brillants was… unexpected. Certainly, Liam did not expect a warlock of such repute to look as a Nephilim or a mundane might, but… she was not what he anticipated. At all.

She had long, glossy hair the color of obsidian and smooth brown skin marred by the occasional scar. She was apparently something like 130, according to Silena, but she looked perhaps twenty-four at most. Her eyes served as her warlock’s mark: they glittered and glowed in the light like no human’s, and they were a strange and alluring mix of emerald and bright blue and hazel-gold. There were flecks of silver as well, and they seemed to almost swirl like a whirlpool when Liam looked into them.

He tore his gaze away.

She chuckled lightly, slender fingers toying with a sapphire pendant hanging around her neck. She hadn't let them into her house, instead coming outside to meet them directly. “My eyes are known to be a bit overwhelming, little Shadowhunter,” she said, not unkindly. Her laughter tinkled like silver bells, clinking together in a wind. “I do not mind.”

Liam flushed, but he didn’t raise his eyes again.

Magdelena sighed lightly, turning her attention to the other Shadowhunters in her yard. “And why do you call upon a filthy Downworlder, Nephilim? What could possibly be so bad as to summon a warlock for assistance?”

Her voice was cold and biting, unlike the tone she had just used with Liam.

Silena stepped forward. “We meant no offense, Warlock Magdelena. We need help.” Her mouth trembled and she added a soft, “ _Please_.”

Magdelena’s eyes shone. “What is it that you need done?”

Liam answered this time. “My sister- my younger sister was possessed by a demon, and my older sister found a spell to transfer the demon into herself. We need you to get the demon out and back into the Void.”

Magdelena’s mouth clamped shut and her hands clenched. “Well. That’s no simple task,” she mused.

She sighed and straightened. “I will do what I can, Nephilim,” she said. “There is no guarantee of success.”

Liam slumped a little. “I know.” His voice was a whisper. “But there must be something you can do. I cannot lose both my siblings to the same demon.”

Magdelena’s magnificent eyes glittered as she looked at him. Her mouth curved ever-so-slightly downward as she answered. “No, I daresay you should not.”

Liam straightened up. “How long will it take?” he asked.

The warlock bit her lip. “I shall gather the materials needed, but then you must take me to your sister.”

“In the Institute?” Jess muttered.

Magdelena glared at the blonde. “Yes, the Institute. Or would you rather try and make a demon come all the way down here?”

Jess was silent.

“That is what I thought,” the dark-haired warlock sniffed. She walked back into her house and closed the door.

“Really, Jess?” Liam muttered. “Insult Alexia’s only chance?”

Jess flushed slightly. “I did not-”

“You did,” Silena said gently. Liam watched his older cousin’s shoulders slump ever-so-slightly at the brunette’s remonstration. “It’s hard, I know, but try to see her as a person, not a tool or a demon-spawn. Give her respect.”

“And if she fails at her task? If she doesn't deserve my respect?” Jess challenged, blue eyes fiery.

Silena stared back, unperturbed. “Then you may be disappointed, but you cannot take it out on her for simply not being powerful enough to succeed.”

The blonde Shadowhunter’s mouth pressed into a thin line and she turned away.

Liam’s fingers grazed the older brunette’s arm, gazing up at her with gentle black eyes. “She’ll get better at this in time,” he promised.

He wasn’t sure if that promise would be broken or not, but he could hope. Hope for Jess, just as he hoped for his sisters.

_Please let us all make it out of this,_ he prayed silently, dark eyes fixed on Magdelena Le Yeux-Brillants’s front door, closed to them. _Please_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAGNUS!!! YAY!!! Also, Magdelena’s last name is the butchered French translation of ‘Bright Eyes’, fyi.  
> Yes, Alexia’s spell worked. She is now possessed with the demon that had Maxie. Yes, Magdelena is gonna fall head-over-heels for her. :D Yes, Liark is moving along quite fast. Yeah, Jess has some prejudice…. :( They can’t all be understanding and awesome all the time, though, because that’s not how reality works! (And okay, this is a fanfic, but I do like to inject SOME reality into my work.) Don’t worry, that’ll be trained out of her.  
> Anyway, next chapter will be Silena POV by my beta Fi’s request. I didn’t want to do one, since Silena (and all other Simons) are full of plot points and spoilers, but… well… Fi requested, and thus I deliver.  
> Alexia: AM I DEAD?!?!?  
> Me: You idiot, Magdelexia can’t happen if you die now!  
> Alexia: Oh yeah.. heh heh… um.  
> Me: *sighs gustily* Nephilim.
> 
> Also, I think I'll be uploading a new chapter every day this weekend, since it's a long weekend, I got to cuddle with my partner, and candy makes me happy. :D


	18. Silena

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't update yesterday! I was busy prepping for Halloween! (I got so much candy, joy~) So you guys get a double update today, to make up for it. *blows kiss*  
> ONWARDS, MINIONS!!!

Silena was terrified.

Sure, the plan they'd formulated had a roughly 79%-chance of success, but in that other 21% lurked all sorts of gruesome deaths ( _dismemberment, stabbing, strangling, decapitation…_ ) by not-their-friend-at-the-moment, or possibly _losing_ not-their-friend-at-the-moment, a.k.a. Alexia, or maybe Magdelena dying (and she didn’t want that to happen! The warlock was great this time!), or (and she was a little ashamed of this one being her worst-case scenario) “Alexia” killing Jess or Clark in front of her.

 _Oh God I can’t do this_ , she moaned to herself. Then her hand tightened on the grip of her seraph and a voice in the back of her head roared, _YES YOU CAN! You are NOT a coward, Silena Trueblood, and you will not become one now! And besides… this is hardly the worst thing we have ever experienced. This is nothing._

She set her jaw and glanced at Clark. “Ready?”

Her best friend shot her his ‘I’m freaking out and won’t admit it’ grin. _He has that same smile every time,_ she noted vaguely.

“Let's go get us a Shadow’unter, shall we?” Clark said.

* * *

Jess and Liam were awaiting them outside the Institute. Liam’s face had gone the color of old milk, and Silena could see the whites around his eyes clearly. Jess’s plush mouth was pressed tightly shut, hands clenched tight around her stele and her seraph, gold curls bound back and blue eyes glittery.

(It was strange to see the blonde with blue eyes, and not gold, but Silena supposed genetics couldn’t line up every time and get the eye color right. Still…. it wasn’t right.)

“Is she ‘ere?” Clark asked, voice tight.

“Magdelena? Yes. Around back- she’s waiting,” Liam replied, hands wringing.

Clark stepped forward and placed a hand on Liam’s shoulder, letting the warmth of his skin sink into the younger's teen’s, green eyes concerned. “‘Ey,” he said, cupping Liam’s cheek in his other hand and turning the dark-haired boy’s face to his, “it’s gonna be fine, you’ll see. Magdelena’s gonna work ‘er magic and we’re gonna get ya sister back, and everythin’ll work out, ye’ll see.”

Liam let out a shuddering breath and turned his face into Clark’s palm.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Silena turned to Jess. The blonde was watching the two of them with unreadable crystal-blue eyes and mouth curving downward. Silena felt a hot spike of anger pierce her stomach and then her heart dropped; _Is Jess disgusted by this? By me?_

“Is there a problem?” Her voice was icy and too quiet for the boys to hear.

Jess glanced at her, startled out of her impassive state. “What?”

“Do you have a problem with… with them?” Silena asked, tipping her head subtly in Clark and Liam’s direction.

Jess’s face crumpled. “No!... do you?”

“Of course not,” the brunette replied, surprised herself. “Why on earth would I?”

“Why would I?” Jess replied quickly.

The girls looked silently at one another until Clark cleared his throat, jerking a thumb at the door. “Are, uh, are ye two ready?”

Silena followed the blonde silently into the building, and neither girl commented on the fact that Clark’s hand was wrapped around Liam’s.

Magdelena was waiting for them just inside the foyer, at the bottom of the long winding staircase. She quirked an elegant black eyebrow at them, but like the other females, she said nothing about Clark and Liam’s closeness.

“Well?” she asked instead. “Am I going to go get a demon out of your sister or not?”

Jess closed her eyes as if the warlock’s words physically pained her; Liam winced, but he stood strong.

“Yes, that would be nice,” he said. His hand tightened on Clark’s.

Magdelena’s incredible eyes softened, just a little bit, and she smiled slightly at Liam. “I’ll do my best, kid,” she promised softly.

Liam nodded slowly; “That’s all I can ask for, Warlock Magdelena.”

She clapped her hands suddenly, making Silena jump slightly. _Hate her damn passed-down dramatics._ “Alright!” the warlock said, faux-cheerfully; “let us get this show on the road!”

* * *

Silena knew that the entire affair could very easily go entirely pear-shaped, but if it made Jess smile like she had before Alexia’s… ‘solution’ (and if it made Liam happy, because if Liam was happy then Clark was happy too, and ‘Liam’ has always been good to her anyway), then anything that happened to her was worth it. (She’s always the one to take the worst damage… what’s one more time in the grand scheme?)

She didn’t plan on being thrown across the room and into a mirror, but who does?

 _Well, people who throw others into mirrors might, I suppose_ , she reasoned. _And me, I should really have thought about this possibility; I do get hurt in the weirdest of ways._ Then she took stock of herself and thought mournfully, _It is possible that I have a concussion, as well as all the cuts from this glass._

“Silena!” Jess yelled, at the same moment Clark yelled “Lena!” The two glanced between her, Alexia’s possessed body, and each other briefly; then they nodded and attacked ‘Alexia’ in tandem.

“Die, Nephilim scum!” the demon wearing Alexia’s body like a suit hissed. Her blue eyes had gone poison yellow and her fingers were tipped with stony claws, which she used with great alacrity. Jess vaulted across the room and slammed the hilt of her dagger into Alexia’s temple with a muttered, “Sorry!” hissed out between her teeth. (Silena was a little ashamed to find that as attractive as she did, the blonde girl fighting so well.) Clark ran in and caught “Alexia” as her body slumped and carried her over to Magdelena’s pentagram.

Liam was acting as the warlock's assistant; faced with his sister’s body, he’d been unable to hurt her even when it wasn't really her, and had elected to stay away and help Magdelena with the exorcism preparations. The redhead dragged the demon into the pentagram and stepped out just as Magdelena activated it. The glow of power hazed over ‘Alexia’s’ prone form.

Jess ran to Silena, carefully extracting her from the pile of reflective glass shards. Her lovely eyes were bright with worry and Silena, in her dazed and possibly-concussed state, dared to hope that some of it was for her and not just for Alexia. (Unrequited devotion is always the _worst_.)

“Are you okay?” Jess asked, instantly followed with a shake of her head and a self-remonstary “No, of course you’re not, you just got thrown into a damned _mirror_ -”

“Jess?” Silena interrupted, body wobbling a little now that she was upright, “I’d appreciate it if you could simply- _ah_ \- keep me from falling over? If that’s possible? If not, I can just stay down.”

Jess stared at her. Then she huffed out a breath and wrapped Silena’s arm around her slim shoulders, taking the brunette’s weight onto herself.

“ _Stupid_ girl,” she muttered, but her eyes were bright.

Silena smiled vaguely and let Jess support her, feeling the other girl’s warmth sink into her bruised and bloody side. She always enjoyed how warm ‘Jess’ was, no matter what form she was in...

“What is wit’ ye and ge’ing smashed inta thin’s?” Clark demanded once the girls were next to the pentagram.

Silena laughed slightly and closed her eyes against the spike of hot agony that shot through her head in response. “S’not like ‘m _trying_ , Clark.”

Her best friend frowned at her worriedly, glancing at Jess. “Haven’ ye given ‘er an _iratze_ ye’?”

Jess smacked her free palm to her forehead as her cheeks slowly turned pink. Silena’s brown eyes snapped to her face; she was just so pretty when she blushed!

Clark glanced at the brunette with laughing green eyes and wiggled his eyebrows. Silena reached out a noodle-like arm and smacked her friend in the face sloppily.

Jess chuckled weakly and drew a careful _iratze_ on the bared expanse of pale shoulder where Silena’s shirt had been cut open by the glass. Silena wasn’t sure, but she thought the taller girl’s cheeks might have darkened when her hand came in contact with Silena’s bare skin. She felt a little jolt of happiness in her stomach at the thought and the touch itself.

All her attention snapped to the figure in the pentagram as she groaned and sat up. Her yellow eyes shot right to Magdelena and she growled, “ **Warlock, why do you imprison your kin? You betray us.** ”

Magdelena looked unfazed, multicolored eyes swirling hypnotically as she crossed her arms and stuck out one hip. “Oh, please!” she spat. “I’m doing you a favor, demon. You’re in the body of a _Shadowhunter_ ; how long do you think it will take until you dissolve? Until her angel blood kills your spirit?” Liam clenched his teeth, and Silena watched Clark visibly restrain himself from comforting the younger boy. Doing so in front of the demon would only show ‘her’ a weakness to exploit.

The demon hissed, long and sibilant, yellow eyes flicking around the circle of people outside the pentagram. Her eyes lit brighter at Silena’s injuries, but dimmed at the hope in Jess and Liam’s faces as she seemed to comprehend that she wasn’t going to get out of this.

Magdelena opened a huge book to the correct page and cleared her throat. “Daemon, tu est repellis ex Alexia Lightwood…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Latin at the end is a VERY rough translation of ‘Demon, you are driven from Alexia Lightwood.’ Google translate is SHIT.  
> I can’t write action worth shit. Sorry! And yeah, this was kinda filler… sorry? But I gave you adorable Liark and Silena pining over Jess, so YAY ME!!! FLUFF HAST EMERGED!!!  
> Also plot developments, some quite important ones. See, I never intended to have a “Simon” POV chapter because, as I have just demonstrated, (s)he gives away a pretty damn big piece of plot when we see things from his(her) POV, but… well, I was asked, so I delivered. 'Course, if you follow my tumblr, you've probably already guessed what the plot point is, but... eh, I'll drag it out here, since there are only eleven people following that blog. Your loss if you're not, though.  
> Next up: Alexia.


	19. Alexia

Everything was blurry, hazed with red and yellow and the smell of rot and poison. It was very much unpleasant, and Alexia wanted to do something about it, but…

What did she want to do, again? What was bothering her?

Why was her vision all strange?

 _Why would it be any other way?_ a voice that wasn’t hers whispered.

She groaned and clutched her head in her hands… wait, no, she didn’t. What?

Wait… where was her body?

No, really, where the _hell_ was her body?

She’d thought she had one, a moment ago… wait. What was a body, again? Why would she have had one? What was it for?

Who was _she_?... and why did she care about all this, anyway?

* * *

Alexia groaned into a wooden floor. Her head seemed like it was going to split in half any moment now and her torso somehow felt numb and achy at the same time. How was that even possible? One should cancel out the other… right?

Wait a second…

_Why am I on the floor? And why am I hurting like this? What happened?_

Then it hit her like a proverbial freight train.

_Oh. Demon. Possession spell. Riiiiiight._

_Liam is gonna kill me. And then Jess will too._

She fought the noodle-like reactions of her limbs and dragged herself into a sitting position, moaning softly and holding her head in her hands. Angel, possession _hurt_.

Her eyes flew open. _Maxie_!

The spell she’d done had taken effect so fast… the last memory she had was of her precious little sister crumpling to the floor and watching her with wide, dazed blue eyes.

 _Oh god… what if I hurt her?_ Alexia felt sick at the thought.

She looked around. She was in the training room, and she was alone… why was she alone? She couldn’t have broken the demon’s control by herself, and she was quite certain Jess and Liam at least wouldn’t have left her alone after that, so why…

She looked down. _Oh_.

She was in a pentagram. That would explain it. She was safe from the demon in here, and the others were safe from her. Okay. That made sense, then.

It didn’t make her feel any better about being caged, though.

Alexia sighed and laid back down on her back, arms splayed and eyes open, staring at the carved ceiling. It was quite a lovely picture, now that she thought about it…

Her eyes slipped shut before she was aware of it, and she slid back into sleep effortlessly. Possession took a lot out of a person, after all.

* * *

When she woke up again, she had company.

She barely stirred, eyes just half-open, before there was a yelp and a husky voice yelling, “Liam, don’ be an idio’-” and then her little brother was hurtling through the walls of the pentagram and hugging the air out of her. She “oof!”ed and fell back, arms automatically cradling her brother to her chest.

Liam’s face felt wet against her shoulder.

Alexia pulled back slowly, petting her little brother’s head, and looked at him. He was pale and his dark eyes had bruised-blue shadows under them and his hair was an utter mess, but he practically radiated joy and relief and _oh Angel he’s crying, Liam is actually crying, oh Raziel what have I done?_

“Liam,” she started, before realizing she had no idea what to say. “Liam, I am fine-”

“Yes, you are!” the dark-eyed boy interrupted, face creasing. “Alexia… why?”

She winced. “Liam…”

“No, answer the question, Lexi,” he insisted stubbornly.

“I can’t- I can’t-” She choked on the words trying to claw their way out of her throat. _I can’t watch my siblings get hurt or put in danger. I can’t watch my baby sister look at me with eyes that aren’t hers. I can’t stand by and do nothing. I can’t abandon you like Mother and Father did us. I can’t_ not _protect you two._

“I can’t help it,” she said finally. It made her sound like a petulant child, but by the look in Liam’s eyes, she knew he got her unspoken message.

He still punched her in the arm.

“Do not _ever_ do something that stupid _ever_ again,” he hissed, and then he hugged her again.

Then there was someone else outside the barrier, looking down at the heap of Lightwood sibling.

“‘Ello, Alexia,” Clark chirped. “Welcome back to t’e land of t’e unpossessed! ‘ow are we feeling t’day?”

She chuckled and shifted Liam around on her lap so she could see the redheaded Nephilim more clearly. “Hello there, Clark! I’m feeling a bit woozy, and a lot sore… any ideas why?”

Clark shifted, green eyes darting to Liam’s snuggly form, and Alexia stifled either a soft chuckle or an “oh-Angel-so- _cute_ ” sort of coo. (Well, they _were_! The instinct is entirely understandable.) “Umm… well. You go’ a bit slammed inta walls, and t’e floor, an’ unpossessed an’ such… it’s boun’ ta hur’ a lil’, ain’t it?”

Alexia chuckled slightly. “Yes, I suppose it is. Would you mind letting me and my dunderheaded brother out of this pentagram?” She masterfully ignored Liam’s sound of protest and added, “I’m quite hungry.”

Clark cocked his head to the side and smirked, and Alexia could actually, literally feel the burn in her little brother’s cheeks as he blushed. “Promise not ta le’ anymore demons inta ya?” the redhead asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and grinning, and Alexia felt more than heard Liam stifle his squeak in her shoulder.

She grinned rather wickedly back and downright _purred_ , “If it get you and Liam to pull your heads out of your arses and just _kiss_ already, I will do whatever I please.”

Liam’s squeak was clearly audible this time as he wheeled back from his devious elder sister and her lethal grin, slamming into the pentagram wall and then whirling to face Clark with embarrassment and horror on his pale face.

“Clark, I’m so sorry, she’s just mean that way-” he started to babble, but Alexia clapped her hand over his mouth and glared down at her brother before he could continue.

“Do not ruin the best thing to happen to you before it even fully happens, Liam,” she chided tiredly. Then she looked up at Clark with wickedly dancing blue eyes and said, “And that goes for you too, Master Fairchild. If you don’t court my brother, I will be forced to hurt you.”

Clark gulped, backing away slowly, face still drawn in lines of shock and fear and a tremulous sort of hope. “Eh… a’right,” he said slowly, not coming back in, “I’ll jes send Magdelena in to let y’all ou’...”

“Clark! Don’t leave me with her!” Liam cried plaintively. But the redhead was already gone.

The dark-haired boy flopped down in Alexia’s arms and turned his face up to hers, pouting adorably. “This is your fault.”

“That it is,” she agreed amiably, refusing to be ashamed. “And where is my thanks, little brother of mine?”

Liam huffed at her, stuck out his lower lip, and turned away. But he didn’t move from her lap, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

 

Magdelena showed up a few minutes later, sashaying her way across the room instead of walking, and rubbed out the markers on the floor.

“So?” she asked Alexia with a smirk curving her soft lips. “Are you fully de-possessed?”

Alexia blinked at the taller woman. “Is that a word?”

The warlock laughed and extended a hand to help Alexia up from the floor, multicolor eyes sparkling. “It is now!”

The dark-haired Nephilim blushed a little as she took the hand, smiling hesitantly. “Thank you so much for your help,” she said genuinely, shuddering at the thought of what the demon in Alexia might have done if Magdelena had not intervened. “What do you want as your recompense?”

Magdelena blinked at her silently for a moment, and then her face shut down. “Of course,” she muttered, stepping away and releasing Alexia’s hand. “You do not believe I would have done something like that without a reward in mind.”

Alexia tried not to let the hurt she felt into her expression. “Of course that’s not what I meant!”

“Then what _did_ you mean, hmm?” the warlock woman shot back, hands on hips and eyes blazing. There seemed to be more green in them suddenly, with less blue and more gold too. Alexia couldn’t help but feel a sharp stab of attraction to the vibrant creature before her, and ruthlessly shoved it down because _not the time, Angel, NOT THE TIME._

“I only meant,” she said softly, catching at Magdelena’s wrist and holding on gently, eyes soft, “that I do not understand why you would do this for a Nephilim and not ask for some sort of recompense. My people have never been kind to those who help us and are not also Raziel’s Children.”

Magdelena’s jaw dropped a little for exactly three seconds before she snapped it shut. She glanced down at Alexia’s porcelain-skinned hand, still wrapped loosely around her darker wrist. She swallowed, and seemed to come to a decision.

“All I require,” she said, face turning back to Alexia’s with a strangely frightened spark swirling amidst the wild whirls of gilded hazel and mossy green and lovely blue and fish-scale silver flecks, “is that you and your brother remain on good terms with me… and that you and I may go out on an occasion or two.” Magdelena swallowed again, but her eyes were brazen and she did not move them from Alexia’s face. “Do we have a deal?”

Alexia gulped, heart fluttering a little in her chest. She knew what could happen if she agreed to this, but…

_Oh, what the hell._

“Yes,” she decided, cheeks flushed and blue eyes sparkling; “yes, Magdelena Le Yeux-Brillants, we have a deal.” She took Magdelena’s hand and shook it, and grinned up at the taller woman, and refused to feel ashamed for making this choice.

Magdelena’s lovely mouth curved up into a pleased little smile that Alexia resolved to make happen more often, and she said, almost shyly, “Call me Dela, if you please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GODS THE FLUFF  
> JESUS SERIOUSLY THE FLUFF IN THIS  
> I think I may have been hijacked by some sort of alien parasite. LOOK AT THIS CHAPTER!!!! Five or so pages of basically pure fluff!! THIS IS NOT ME.  
> I am so proud of not-me…. *sniffle*  
> MAGDELEXIA AND LIARK FOR THE WIN, BITCHES!!  
> Dear god, this is going to be SUCH a long lifetime, Christ on a cracker. THIS HAS TOO MUCH PLOT.  
> Rant at me about everything on my tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nerdlingqueenwrites  
> Thanks for reading!


	20. Alexia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I updated the Backstories sidefic collection yesterday, and I did promise an update for this in that update, so- here!

Alexia felt like she was floating. A gorgeous woman had just asked to court her, her little brother _finally_ had a love interest (a pretty fine one, too), Jess seemed to be catching on to Silena’s feelings, and the demon possessing her little sister was gone. Life was great.

 _Little sister_ …

“Dela?” Alexia blurted.

The warlock looked over at her. They were walking down a hallway to where the others apparently were. “Yes?”

“Where is my sister?”

“I told you, Jess-”

“No, not Jess,” Alexia corrected. “She’s my cousin, not my sister. I meant the sister I got the demon out of, Maxie- Maxandria.”

Magdelena frowned. “I didn’t see anyone else when I got here. Could she be hiding somewhere?”

Alexia’s heart was sinking fast. “Maybe…”

“Hey,” the warlock said, stopping and gripping the blue-eyed girl’s shoulders. “We will figure it out. I am sure she is fine.”

Alexia breathed out slowly, hands shaking, and she buried her face in Magdelena’s shoulder.

“Alright,” she whispered. Her shirt was soft on Alexia’s skin. “Alright.”

* * *

 Jess and Liam were waiting for them in the kitchen, Liam at the stove and trying to make… something. Alexia wasn’t sure what it was. She had a rule: _Never eat something Liam makes_. Jess was standing next to her cousin with wide blue eyes and a frightened expression.

As Alexia got closer, the blonde leaned over and muttered in her ear, “Do you think it will kill us, or just keep us out of commission for a month?”

“Neither,” Alexia muttered back. “Two months; I think it’s supposed to be eggs.”

Jess stared at the blackened, hard mess in the pan and gulped. “We are doomed.”

Without looking, Liam’s hand detached from the handle of the pan and smacked Jess. Then he slapped Alexia’s arm.

“My cooking,” he sniffed, “is too glorious for mere mortals to taste.”

Magdelena caught a look of the charred “eggs” in the pan. She blanched.

“Um, Liam?” she tried.

“Magdelena?”

“I have a lovely dish I think you all would like… it’s from another country… and if the girls don’t like eggs, why make them eat it?”

Jess gaped. Alexia beamed. Liam tapped his chin consideringly before dumping the entire panful into the garbage and plopping it back on the stove. He whirled away and faced Magdalena. “There. Do whatever it is you do. I need to find Clark and make sure Alexia hasn’t ruined my relationship forever.”

His sister looked down at the younger boy with blazing blue eyes and hissed, “ _It will happen, Liam Lightwood._ ”

Liam backed slowly out of the kitchen, pale and a little shaky. Jess gave her cousin a freaked-out look, but Magdelena just started getting things out of the icebox and shot a question over her shoulder: “What will happen, pray tell?”

“Liam and Clark will court one another,” Alexia explained, dropping into a chair and resting her forehead against the smooth, dark wood.

Magdelena paused, eyes thoughtful. “Clark would be the redhead, yes?”

“Yes,” Jess confirmed, leaning back against the wall with her head tipped back, neck a long, smooth column of golden-tan flesh.

Magdelena grinned as she set out her ingredients. “Oh, yes, I can definitely support _that_. Matchmake to your heart’s content, Alexia!”

Alexia kept her face down so no one could see her blush as she returned, “Call me Lexi, would you?”

(Jess took one look at the struck, soppy grin on the warlock’s face and the redness creeping down the back of her cousin’s bared neck, and got out of the room before she had to see them kissing. Liam and Clark’s awkward, adorable, oblivious flirting was _quite_ enough.)

* * *

After everyone had been rounded up and notified of the presence of a breakfast that was not cooked by Liam, Alexia broached the topic.

“Where’s Maxie?”

Liam’s hand froze. “We thought you knew.”

“What?”

Jess’s eyes were wide. “We- we just assumed you sent her somewhere and hadn’t told us yet-”

“No!” Alexia cried, feeling panic well in her chest; “no, Jess, I have _no idea_ where she is!”

The blonde stared down at her plate, and Liam started shaking.

“Shite,” Clark said crudely.

No one reprimanded him.

“Where do you think she could be?” Silena asked, after a long, long minute.

Alexia shook her head, trying not to cry. “I- I don’t-”

“What do you remember?” the brunette asked gently

Alexia swallowed and took a breath. “I… I found her on the top floor. One of the guest bedrooms. I… I knocked her out, made a pentagram… did the transferring ritual…”

“Yes?” Silena asked, motioning for the older girl to go on.

Alexia closed her eyes. “And the last thing I remember is her looking up at me. That’s it.”

Silence reigned.

Clark clapped once suddenly. Liam, next to him, jumped and glared- _like an annoyed kitten_ , Alexia noted dimly.

“Well, t’en it’s simple, ain’ it?” the redhead asked. “If she were still in t’e pen’agram, t’en you couldn’a ‘urt her. She’s prob’ly still t’ere.”

Alexia paled. “It’s been hours, Clark.”

Jess shoved her chair back so hard it hit the wall, grabbed Liam’s hand, yanked the smaller Shadowhunter right out of his chair, and ran for the stairs. Alexia was right behind them.

Their footsteps thundered against the wood, Silena and Clark and Magdelena’s feet joining the Lightwoods in their rush.

“Which floor?” Jess gasped, reaching the top.

Alexia kept going; “Third!”

Someone groaned. It might have been Magdelena. Alexia wasn’t sure.

Alexia crested the stairs and dashed down the hall, skidding to a stop when she got a door that seemed to have been torn open. She peeked hesitantly inside, terror ripping at her insides, Jess and Liam right behind her.

Maxie was passed out in the center of a flickering, fading pentagram in the center of the room, and she was unhurt.

Alexia started crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...yeah, that's all this chapter is.  
>  BUT!  
> There is a sidefic that directly follows this chapter, and I think(hope) you'll be very happy with it. Hint: Liark. ~:D  
> On another topic, you may have noticed that Alexia is characterized differently from my other Alecs. They’re all angsty and schmoopy and filled with the self-doubt and self-hate; Alexia doesn’t really fit that profile. But remember, Alec was actually very strong and sassy in CHF; he’s not a little mouse. I decided that I would do a lifetime that reflects that. And while yeah, I actually love the angsty, self-hating version of Alec, that’s not all he is. He can be strong and sassy and bold, and I’m trying to respect that as best I can.  
> Thanks for reading, and please leave a comment!


	21. Alexia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHIT I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG  
> I've been really busy the past few months, and my other projects are catching up to me, and my English teacher is fucking insane- I have to write a paper every night or so- it's been rough. BUT. At least one of my obligations is wrapping up and I have spring break in a week, so I'll have more time to write.  
> So. As an apology for taking two months, you get two chapters today. :D I think you'll like this one, at least~  
> (Also, seriously, please give me suggestions for where/when the next lifetime should take place. I have a few ideas, but I'd seriously appreciate some more.)  
> ONWARDS!

Maxie woke up at three thirty in the morning.

Alexia was passed out at her bedside, head tipped back against the wall, hair loose and messy, hands folded in her lap. She’d managed to fall asleep in the ridiculously uncomfortable chair set up in the infirmary after she’d dragged it over to her sister’s bedside. She woke when cool, pale fingers brushed her arm and she heard a faint, “Lexi?”

Maxie’s voice was hoarse and a little scared, but it was _her_ voice.

Alexia jolted up and threw her arms around Maxie’s neck. The younger girl squeaked and hugged her back, burying her face in Alexia’s shoulder as the oldest Lightwood blinked back tears and kissed Maxie’s head.

“Angel, Maxie, I was so worried,” the blue-eyed girl gasped.

Maxie looked up at her, the position forcing Alexia to look at her in return. “ _You_ were worried? How do you think _I_ felt?! I was trapped in a pentagram for hours!”

Alexia closed her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Maxie,” she whispered softly, trying desperately not to cry.

The younger girl frowned at the expression on her big sister’s face. “Oh, no, Lexi, that’s not-” She bit her lip. “It’s all my fault anyway. You would not have- have done what you did if I had not- had not been possessed.”

Alexia pulled back with wide, shocked eyes. “Maxie! Don’t say that! It was my choice, and-”

“But you would not have had to _make_ the choice in the first place had I not tempted danger!” Maxie protested.

The older Lightwood frowned, stilling. “What do you mean, ‘tempted danger’?”

Maxie flushed and looked down. “I, um… I was out by myself… I was bored and the city was quiet and then… There was a summoning, down by the docks, and I was the only Shadowhunter around so I _had_ to investigate, and there was this dead warlock and a faulty pentagram-”

“And the demon the warlock summoned… got inside you?” Alexia guessed.

Maxie sighed. “Pretty much.”

The older girl frowned, and pushed Maxie’s bangs away from her face as though she didn’t even realize she was doing it. “How long…”

“Liam caught on pretty quick,” the younger Lightwood admitted. “He noticed… what, a day or two after? I think… I think it was only in me for a week or two, now. It doesn’t…. it doesn’t have much of a hold,” she added, looking at her sister’s strained face. She grinned reassuringly. “I’ll be fine, Lexi. I _am_ fine, as a matter of fact. Do not worry for me.”

Alexia grinned at her little sister through a blurry curtain of tears. “Worrying about you is my job,” she choked out, and hugged Maxie to her again.

The younger Lightwood went willingly, and did not comment on the tears sliding down into her collar.

* * *

When Alexia woke up again, Maxie was asleep with her face smushed into the pillow, black hair spread out over it in a tangled mess. A few strands were being blown away from her mouth whenever she breathed out and it was oddly endearing- as though Maxie needed any more endearance to her sister. Alexia smiled softly before realizing they weren’t alone.

Magdelena was in the doorway. Her hip bore her weight, pressing against the doorjamb, and her arms were crossed over her chest, but not in a defensive way, more like… like she wanted to hug herself and was forcing herself not to. Her hair was tied back in several thick braids looped together around her head- not a particularly English style, but Alexia wasn’t complaining- and her multicolored eyes glittered in the light from the hallway.

Alexia smiled gently at her from her post by the bed and asked, “What time is it?”

The warlock blinked before she answered, voice as hushed as Alexia’s, in consideration for the sleeping girl in bed. “Nearly seven. How are you both?”

The blue-eyed girl looked down at her lap. “She’s doing quite well, actually. I’m, well… it was disturbing, and terrifying, I will admit, but… I am fine. I will be fine,” she said, and even she wasn’t sure who she was trying to reassure.

Magdelena’s eyebrows went up. She swept into the room, skirt swirling around her legs, and sat in the only other chair, next to the door.

“Are you sure about that?” she asked quietly, eyes drifting to the younger blue-eyed Lightwood. “I… I worry,” she admitted slowly, biting her lip.

Alexia felt her cheeks darken with a speed she hadn't thought possible.

“I will be fine, Dela,” she promised, and _oh_ \- that was Magdelena blushing too, goodness, Alexia had not been prepared for how lovely red cheeks looked on that woman-

Maxie stirred, groaning, and rolled over. Her hand searched for Alexia’s and without even thinking about it, Alexia took the smaller, cool hand in hers. When she looked back up at Magdelena, the warlock’s eyes were shimmering strangely and her lower lip seemed to be trembling, just the slightest bit. Alexia frowned.

“Are you quite all right?”

The warlock jumped and flushed harder, looking down and away as though ashamed to have been caught doing… whatever she seemed to think she’d been doing. “Yes,” she muttered, hands twisting in her lap. “Fine.”

Alexia’s frown deepened, but she didn’t push. Instead she looked back at her sister and, hardening her heart, slipped her hand free. Maxie frowned pitifully and before Alexia could crumble, she turned away and stood.

Magdelena rose too, grabbing her wrist with the lightest of pressure and twirling the Nephilim to face her. “Where are you going?” she asked. Her eyes were worried.

Alexia smiled, pushed on the warlock's shoulders until she sat again, and stepped back toward the door. “I am going to tell Liam and Jess Maxie’s alright and, though she is asleep, they can see her if they wish. _You_ ,” she said firmly, “are going to stay right here and keep an eye on my sister.”

“What?” the woman gasped. Her eyes were bright with panic. “I- I can’t-”

“Yes you can,” Alexia chuckled a little. “You and she will be fine. I will only be gone a few minutes, Dela. Please. Do this.”

The warlock swallowed hard. The colors in her eyes swirled hypnotically, but Alexia neither broke eye contact nor allowed herself to be drawn into the whirling pools.

“Alright,” Magdelena said finally. Her voice was hushed and hoarse. “Alright.”

Alexia smiled gently at the older woman and, before she could talk herself out of it, she swooped down and pressed a soft, shy kiss to Magdelena’s warm mouth. It was only for a moment, but the moment felt like a sweet little piece of eternity. When she pulled away, it was to the warlock’s shocked eyes and open mouth; Alexia met them with a shy smile and glittering blue eyes.

“I trust you,” she murmured, backing out and closing the door behind her.

* * *

She slumped against the wall outside, fingertips pressed lightly to her mouth, bright-eyed and red-cheeked.

_I just had my first kiss._

_I just_ initiated _my first kiss._

_I just kissed another woman._

She could not make herself regret it.

* * *

Alexia took the stairs up to Liam’s room quickly- the bedrooms were a floor above the infirmary- but she slowed as she approached. Light spilled out under the cracked-open door and her senses tingled; something was happening that should not be disturbed.

Still…

She pressed against the wall and peeked in, a single bright blue eye exposed from around the door, dark hair framing her face. She grinned wildly at the sight within.

Liam and Clark were laying on the bed, Liam tucked into Clark’s sheltering embrace, and they were kissing, slow and sweet as dripping honey. Liam’s cheeks were red and his eyes were closed, breath huffing out of his nose because he couldn’t make himself stop, even to breathe properly; Clark’s red curls were a mess from inquisitive, questing hands, his back was pressed to the wall in a way that looked a little uncomfortable but that he seemed to be ignoring, and his wide green eyes _glowed,_ admiring and so _happy_ it almost hurt to look at him.

Alexia bit her lip, stepping carefully away from the door. On the one hand, if she just walked in, it would be one of the best moment of her life (so many in one day! She must have hit some sort of record by now…), and their _faces_!... Priceless, it would be _priceless_.

And on the other hand, she had to consider how _she_ would feel if someone, say, walked in on her and Magdelena kissing like that…

She blushed furiously at the image and lost higher brain function for a minute. When her thought processes came back online, she sighed without a sound and raised a hand.

“Liam?” she called, knocking.

She heard a muffled curse, then a thump, and then the sounds of two people trying to make it look like they were not just kissing. She smirked and waited patiently.

“Come in!” her little brother yelled, voice a little husky.

She cocked one eyebrow as she walked in. “What _have_ you been doing, little brother?”

Clark went red and Liam went redder, stuttering out an unintelligible reply as Clark tried not to spontaneously combust from embarrassment.

Alexia tipped her head to one side and smirked evilly. _Perhaps I chose the better option after all…?_

“I have no problem with it,” she assured them. “I mean, I can hardly discriminate, but even without Dela I still would support you two. You know that, yes?”

Liam went the color of blood and lost the power of speech, but Clark seemed to recover his tongue. He swallowed, reached over, and took Liam’s hand gently.

“T’ank yeh, Alexia,” he said quietly.

The older girl waved away the gratitude, “No, really, it’s nothing. Honestly, no one in this building can tell you what you are doing is wrong.”

Liam cocked his head and remembered how to speak. “What?”

Alexia blinked at her little brother. “Um, beg pardon? How have you _not_ noticed the flirting going on here? I mean, I just kissed a female warlock a minute or two ago, and that breaks at _least_ two major Clave laws, so-”

“Wait, wait, _what_?” Liam exploded.

Clark and Alexia looked at the adorable dumbfounded expression on the dark-haired boy’s face, then looked at each other. They burst into laughter.

“No, but the real reason I came down here is to tell you that you can visit Maxie,” Alexia said finally, hand gripping the doorway. “She is not awake, but…”

Liam was already in motion, and Clark followed him without a word.

Alexia closed the door behind them and followed silently.

Maxie was still asleep when they entered, and Magdelena did not seem to have moved. Liam cast her a _look_ right as he came in, but his attention was drawn to his little sister quickly enough, and he went straight to her side.

Alexia knelt on the floor beside Magdelena, eyes soft as she watched her siblings interact. “Any problems?”

Liam bent, and with a touch as light as a breath, he swept Maxie’s messy ebony bangs out of her face. She murmured and turned her face into his hand; he swallowed and kissed her forehead, closing his eyes as he did it. Alexia saw the telltale glimmer in his eyes, and she knew he was about to start crying.

Magdelena shifted at her side, and Alexia caught the movement of her caramel-toned throat as she swallowed. “No. No problems.” Her eyes shimmered, and Alexia found herself caught between concern and desire.

She stood and held out her hand to the warlock. “Come on. Let us leave them to it. Perhaps we shall send Jess up here- and, I suppose, Silena by extension?”

Clark glanced back at them and whispered, “‘Lena’d appretia’e tha’, for sure.”

Magdelena took Alexia’s cool, pale hand and stood gracefully. “Yes. Golden Girl and the brunette one ought to know the subject of all their toil is well.”

“Do you even know their names?” Alexia asked, half-laughing and half-horrified, as she shut the door behind them.

Magdelena shrugged, all coiled muscle and water-fluid grace. Alexia couldn’t look away from the movement of her musculature; for a non-Nephilim, she was amazingly well-fit. “Why should I?”

The dark-haired girl shook her head and squeezed the warm hand in hers gently, looking over her shoulder at the older woman with laughing sapphire eyes. “Come along, you!” she teased gently, but her grip never faltered as she descended. She didn’t want to relinquish the warmth in her hand.

Magdelena followed her and wondered exactly _how_ she had fallen so quickly and so fast. It would have been disturbing, but it was _Alexia Lightwood_ , and suddenly that made the whole thing more enchanting and amazing than strange and illogical.

It felt… _right_ , doing these things with the dark-haired, blue-eyed Shadowhunter. It felt more right than anything she had ever done before, and she was nearly seven times Alexia’s age.

But she could not make herself truly question her attraction to the Lightwood, because then Alexia was smiling at her over her shoulder, eyes bright and cheeks tinted with red dust, and Magdelena was so smitten it wasn't even funny.

She still could not make herself care.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magdelena's a sappy little child~ :)  
> Next chapter, we get into the second arc of this lifetime.  
> ...Don't expect a happy ending, this time.


	22. Alexia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one of the second story arc!  
> Ready thyselves, my dear readers.  
> Oh, also, timeskip.  
> ONWARDS!

Mary and Robert Lightwood were rarely around. This was something Alexia had known since they deemed her old enough to left alone or with her younger siblings, and it had always irritated her… until things began happening that would have been far harder to participate in if her parents were there.

First, Liam kissed another boy, and Alexia could see the signs of young love that, if nurtured and supported, could be something far more powerful. And then she herself began courting a female warlock in secret- something utterly forbidden by the Clave- and she ceased entirely to wish her parents’ return. She was far happier with Magdelena, Maxie, Liam and Jess and their respective partners, than she was with her stiff, cold parents and their old, suffocating ways.  It was much better for everyone that they remain gone.

The longest absence they had ever had before was six months. This latest was pushing nine, and Alexia kept finding herself hopeful that they might stay in Alicante forever and leave her in charge of the Institute and her siblings. She knew it was a terrible hope, but she couldn’t quite help it.

Liam and Clark were absolutely enamoured with each other, and one of the five girls’ favorite pastimes (for Maxie had joined them in this) was to sit in a room far away from Liam’s- usually one on the top floor- and talk and talk and talk about the boys’ relationship. They were utterly _adorable;_ Alexia simply could not help herself, and she got the feeling that the others felt the same.

Occasionally, the subject would turn from Liam and Clark to Magdelena and Alexia themselves. Alexia would always end up red as a tomato and the warlock would always kiss her flaming cheeks- “To cool you down!” she claimed, but Alexia was sure she just liked embarrassing her. (She had also noticed that Magdelena was several times more likely to kiss her if she was blushing. And that meant on the mouth, if they were alone, and all over her bright red face if they had company.) Not that she really minded the kissing; it was just a little uncomfortable when sitting across from her sister, her cousin-who-may-as-well-be-a-sister, and said cousin’s best-friend-maybe-something-more.

Jess and Silena really needed to figure out what they were, because it was driving everyone else mad. Magdelena was of the opinion that they needed a nice shove into each other’s faces; Clark thought they should be locked in a closet for a few hours; Liam believed that they should just talk it out; Maxie made little kissing sounds every time she watched an interaction between the two; and Alexia agreed with Dela. They needed to kiss before the tension drove everyone around them mad, and she said that as someone who _has_ an outlet for that sort of thing. It was getting ridiculous. They’d known one another for a good six months; Liam and Clark had kissed before a week had passed! They had no excuses for letting it go on this long…

But then, Alexia had always known that Jess wasn’t one to rush when she was serious about someone. Granted, she’d only ever had passing crushes before and never to this extent, but Alexia just kind of knew. Silena, she hadn’t known for almost a decade like she had Jess, but it was clear to her that the brunette mot likely would not be the one to make the first move here. If it was to be one of them, it would have to be Jess; and she wasn’t looking to be confessing anytime soon. And that left the rest of them, the outsiders and onlookers, to make the push and shove.

Alexia sighed. _I hate mutually oblivious pining. It’s so… depressing._

Magdelena heard the Shadowhunter’s soft sigh from across the room- the younger girl often teased her about having the ears of a cat- and frowned. Turning around, she asked, “Are you alright?”

Her voice jolted Alexia from her thoughts. Her head jerked up from where she’d been brooding, chin on folded hands, on Magdelena’s kitchen table. “Huh?”

Magdelena smiled softly; her Nephilim’s involuntary adorableness never failed to get to her. “I asked if you’re alright, sweetness.”

A bright blush spread over Alexia’s cheeks at the endearment, just like always, and she coughed. “Well, um,” she muttered, all-too-aware of Magdelena’s stunning eyes burning into her. “I was just thinking that Jess and Silena need a push, like you said before.”

The warlock groaned. “God, yes! The obliviousness! The OBLIVIOUSNESS!!” she wailed dramatically, casting the back of one hand to her head as though swooning. Alexia giggled at her partner’s antics and the older woman subsided, grinning brightly at the Shadowhunter.

“But truly, Dela, they need to kiss before everyone else is driven stark raving mad,” Alexia sighed.

Magdelena sighed, setting the pan down- she’d been making omelets, her specialty, before Alexia’s brooding had drawn her attention- and made sure the flame on the stove was low before she moved behind Alexia and set her slim, strong hands on her shoulders. Even before she dug her fingers into the muscles, the Shadowhunter's shoulders instantly lost tension, body recognizing the relief that came with the now-familiar gesture. Alexia let out a tiny moan as Magdelena’s skilled fingers worked into her shoulders, head drooping and eyes shuttering closed, entire body relaxing and upper torso arching instinctively toward the warlock’s talented hands. Magdelena grinned slightly to herself and dug her thumb into a stubborn knot of muscle: Alexia’s eyelids fluttered and she let out an almost startled moan, hands tightening suddenly on the arms of her chair and head tilting back to look up at Magdelena with hazy blue eyes.

The warlock smirked at her and dug her thumb in again. “Tense?”

Alexia whimpered slightly in reply.

Once Magdelena finished with her impromptu massage, she spun back to the stove and whipped the eggs off the fire, eyes sparkling as she glanced at her partner’s limp torso, closed eyes, and small dozy smile. “Feel good?” she asked, setting plates down on the table; Alexia hummed an assent and sat up, eyes regaining their awareness.

“But truly, Dela, they have to kiss before the month is out or I am going to… to…” Alexia struggled for an appropriate consequence.

Magdelena’s multicolor eyes glittered mischievously. She leaned over on the table, chin in hand. “Wellllll… we could always embarrass them by kissing in front of them…”

Alexia went bright red just thinking about it. “DELA!”

The warlock started laughing. Alexia pushed her, blushing furiously. “That would embarrass me more than them!” she insisted, eyes fiery. Magdelena leaned in, expertly catching the Shadowhunter's soft mouth with her own. She sucked her bottom lip in between her own teeth, nibbling softly, and released it only to cup Alexia’s heated face and try to suck the air out of her lungs. When Alexia was finally released, she was panting.

“...What were we arguing about again?” she asked slowly.

Magdelena smirked. Alexia frowned, “Magdelena… that is not fair. You cannot do that.”

The warlock was about to argue, but she caught the look on her partner’s face. She sobered. “Alright, darling. I won’t win arguments by kissing you senseless anymore.”

Alexia nodded. “Thank you.”

* * *

That was the morning. That afternoon, Alexia and Jess, who’d been patrolling on the opposite side of the city from the other three, were running away from a Behemoth that had somehow gotten into their city.

“We need to stop it!” Jess yelled, glancing over her shoulder.

Alexia growled, hand clenching on her bow. “I can’t get a clear shot!” she yelled back, leaping over a heap of dirty rags and gasping as she hit her ankle against a badly placed brick. “Tell you what,” she continued, the Behemoth’s roar nearly drowning out her voice; “you distract it, stab it a few times, and I get into a position where I can actually shoot the damn thing.”

Jess glanced at her cousin in alarm: Alexia’s voice was calm, but the paleness of her lips and the curse betrayed her. Alexia never cursed unless she was terrified or furious, and it was pretty clear it was the former. The blonde teen nodded, hands steady, as she spun and threw a seraph into the Behemoth’s “face”. It roared, slowing down slightly; the street was narrow and cluttered, and it was having a difficult time moving through the area. Alexia ducked behind a crate, drawing two arrows and putting them to the string at the same time. She stood, sighting briefly before releasing and ducking back under cover, reloading swiftly.

“Can you get any closer?” she called to Jess.

The blonde cursed and rolled, stabbing the demon in the side and getting up in one fluid movement. “I think I’m close enough already!”

Alexia huffed a laugh, more out of fear and adrenaline than amusement, and shot another few arrows into the demon’s hide. One sprouted out of where an eye might be; sickly black ichor splattered the walls and the street, hissing. A droplet hit Jess’s gear-covered arm, and her crystal-blue eyes widened as the leather began to smoke. She danced away from the Behemoth, hands occupied with her seraphs, as her gaze flitted from her opponent to the acidic liquid on her arm to the huge demon in front of her.

Alexia made a split-second decision. Whipping out one of her own rarely-used seraphs- the battle when they met Clark and Silena didn’t count in her mind, her bow had been under repairs after it had snapped in battle- she hissed, “ _Ramiel,_ ” and the blade blazed brightly in her hand. Sucking in a harsh breath, she got up on the crate and, sighting along the blade, threw it with the pinpoint accuracy of an expert archer. It flipped past the side of Jess’s still head, actually severing one of her curls, and landed squarely in the demon’s face. Ramiel burned heavenly fire into the demon’s skull, thick flesh melting right off the bone in front of the girls’ eyes, and the Behemoth shuddered and roared and stilled right behind Jess as the flames melted what passed for a brain. Alexia reached back slowly, drawing an arrow and putting it to the string without ever taking her eyes off the body of the demon. She drew and released and lowered the bow without moving any unnecessary muscles; the arrow landed beside the seraph, and it hissed as it was enveloped in burning, tearing muscle and flesh. The Behemoth died slowly, agonizingly slowly, and Jess and Alexia did not take their eyes away from the damned thing until it was gone.

The blonde girl released a long breath once the corpse had burned away. “That was… something,” she said slowly.

Alexia’s eyes shifted down to her pale, callused hand wrapped around the dark wood of her bow. It was shaking ever so slightly. “Yes,” she murmured, and stepped down off the wooden crate with one large movement. She walked toward the place where the Behemoth had died, free hand extending, particles of demon floating visibly in the air. “Yes… yes, it was.”

Jess laughed suddenly, and the sound seemed to break Alexia out of her trance. The blonde tossed her head back, golden ringlets glimmering, and wiped her eyes. “You killed a Behemoth, Lexi. You just killed a damn _Behemoth_.”

Alexia stared at the place where the demon had been, and her bow clattered to the ground from nerveless fingers. She didn’t seem to notice. “I did,” she whispered instead, head tilting back even as her eyes slipped shut and a great rush of air burst out of her lungs. “I did,” she repeated slowly, pivoting and looking down at Jess. “I killed a Behemoth.”

* * *

On the other side of the city, a woman threw her hood back and stared down at the huddle of shadowy figures below her. She smiled, and the gesture showed sharp points on her teeth and blackened gums. Her eyes glinted black-violet in the darkness as she raised her arms, wrapped in gold bands, and she howled to the skies. Her followers howled with her.

She lowered her head and stared out at the city, eyes unerringly focused on the barely-visible silhouette of the London Institute in the distance. **“We are coming, Nephilim,”** she hissed. **“And when we do, we will return you to the Void where you belong.”**

Her pointed teeth flashed in the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like suspense and drama, because Part II of this lifetime is gonna be full of it.  
> Comment please!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [how we got to here (it's not a happy tale)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4663632) by [Nerdling_Queen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdling_Queen/pseuds/Nerdling_Queen)




End file.
